“What the hell were you thinking, Jimbo?” Maggie asked. Her long fingernails carved deep into the smooth faux velvet bench seat as the car groaned, its wheels spinning in place.
Jimmy’s beefy paws clutched the steering wheel, gripping so tight that his knuckles turned white. “Look, I figured it hadn’t rained in a couple days, so it’d be okay.”
“Well, a couple of dry days don’t matter much when it rains for a week straight.” Jimmy ran a handful of stubby fingers through his sawed-off brown hair. “Hell, I thought the full moon would be nice.”
Maggie wasn’t ready to play nice. “Real romantic,” she said, glancing out the window and catching a ghost of her own, thin-faced reflection in the glass. “It isn’t even a full moon.”
“Like hell.” Jimmy released his foot from the gas, and the car sighed with relief. He pushed his face against the windshield and searched for the moon.
“No, it’s only about three-quarters.”
“Awww,” Jimmy moaned, dropping his head to the steering wheel. “I wanted to, you know, do something you might think was romantic.” His hands dropped to his chin. “I really fucked up. If the Charger was ready, we wouldn’t be stuck.”
Maggie’s face broke into a smile. “You think your dad’s old clunker could get us out of this mud pit?”
Jimmy’s face sprouted with red blotches. “First of all, it’s a ’69. A classic, not a clunker. And no it couldn’t get us out of the mud. Once I get that puppy humming, I’m not taking it out in this stuff, anyway. If the road was dry, hell yeah. I can’t wait to — ”
“What? Spin out on the flat mile and end up in the ditch?” Maggie shook her head and brushed her auburn hair away from her face, pulling back into a loose ponytail. “Listen, sweetie. You get me out of this mud-hole, and I’ll make sure we find a dark, quiet spot for some real romance.” Her hand slid onto his lap, and stroked the inside of his leg.
Jimmy slowly straightened in his seat. He glanced at Maggie. “I love you, babe.”
“I know.” She smiled, but her face suddenly dropped into a stunted frown. “What the hell was that?”
“What was what?”
“I saw something move behind you.” She shivered. “Look, the sooner we get out of here, the better.”
“Don’t freak on me.”
“I’m not, I just …want to get back to town, okay? Civilization?” She waved her fingers toward the blue glow of Springdale. “I don’t like this road. The stories — ”
“ — are mostly silly legends to scare kids; to keep people from driving too fast.”
“Well, they’re working. I’m scared.”
“Right. I’ll get us out of here, then.” Jimmy pushed his door open with a squeak of rusty hinges.
“Where are you going?” Maggie’s voice eked out with a taint of panic.
Jimmy had slipped from the car, but momentarily ducked back into the dim glow of the dashboard lights. “Just going to find some wood or something I can wedge behind the tires. You know — for traction.”
“All right,” she said slowly. “Just hurry, okay?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Maggie jabbed the automatic locks as soon as Jimmy slammed his door. She huddled on her side of the car, feeling a bit chilly in the April darkness. If he would just hurry, she thought. She twirled a bit of hair on her finger. This place is creepy, but the old full-moon trick is kinda sweet. He’s a —
Maggie’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang on her door. Jimmy’s face hovered just outside her window.
“Gotcha,” he muttered, loud enough to be heard through the glass.
Maggie snapped the door open, smashing it across his knees. “Damn it Jimbo, I nearly wet myself.” She stood up next to the door, and looked into the darkness, past her doubled-over boyfriend. “Jimmy …who's that?” she asked, shivering.
Jimmy let a pathetic little groan slip out of his mouth as he rubbed his knees. “Just some guys. They can help push the car.”
Three figures shimmered in the moonlight. They appeared to be teenage boys, somewhere between sixteen and nineteen, but they all seemed strange. Their faces were pinched together, too gaunt and pale, even in the moonlight. Maggie tried to muster a friendly smile, and the boys’ lips cracked open in response. They wore dirty clothing, streaked with dark stains.
Most likely mud, Maggie thought. Gross.
One stepped forward and stretched out a withered hand. His fingertips were stained black. “I’m Dan. This here’s Lonnie and Earl. We can help,” he said. Maggie couldn’t see his lips move. A taint floated with his voice, like the sound of a light wind cutting through a strand of old trees. The other two stood behind him like chimps; the one introduced as Lonnie poked a finger into his mouth and scratched at his gums, digging out something black that shone in the moonlight.
A rancid odor oozed off the boys. It was wet and fishy — the scent of a riverbank after a flood.
Maggie quickly slipped into the car and slammed the door shut. Jimmy said something to the three, and sloshed through the mud to the driver's side. He tried to shake the thick muck from his shoes before shutting the driver’s door and slipping the gear shifter into neutral, but it was no use.
“Who are those guys?” Maggie whispered. She caught herself with one hand against the dash as the car lurched forward. The back of her neck burned like some dull razor had plucked out the hairs one by one. “I haven’t seen them around school.”
Jimmy shrugged, maintaining a solid grip on the steering wheel. “Probably home-schooled or something.”
“Home-schooled? Really?” Maggie cast a curious glance at Jimmy’s profile. “They look a little freaky to me.”
“Yeah, well, some of those home-schooled kids are religious fanatics, you know. Maybe these guys are part of some wacky cult. They seem nice enough, though.”
Maggie turned to look over her shoulder. The yellow faces of the three strangers grinned in the back window, showing bent and browning teeth. Their eyes were cold and black, so she quickly snapped her eyes back to the front of the car. “They make me feel dirty. The way they leer at me.”
“Babe, if they’re religious zealots, they probably aren’t used to seeing hot numbers like you. Really.” Jimmy leaned over and kissed her on the neck. Maggie pushed him away and flashed a tepid smile.
“Look, we’re almost there,” Jimmy announced. He straightened in his seat and peered into the cone produced by the headlights. “We still on for that dark, quiet spot?”
“I’ll think about it,” Maggie muttered, crossing her arms across her chest. She couldn't shake the crawling sensation of the boys’ eyes on her back.
“See, safe and sound,” Jimmy said as the headlights lit up the yellow sign at the end of North 1800. “I’ll just thank them, and we’re off.”
“Jimmy, don't ….”
“Just a quickie. They really helped us out of a jam.”
Jimmy stepped out of the car.
Maggie stared at her feet for a moment, looked at Jimmy's open door, and slowly brought her gaze to the window next to her. A flat, leering face with bloodshot eyes and stretched, chapped lips floated an inch from the window.
“You're purdy,” the face gibbered, its voice muffled and cold. Maggie let out a small gasp, quickly turned away from the window, and reached for the door lock. Her thumb flicked the switch, but the lock wouldn’t cooperate with Jimmy’s door hanging open.
Jimmy poked his head into the car. “Hey, Maggie. This guy owns a ‘57 Chevy — stock everything. They other guys have nice rides, too. Vintage. They say I should come out sometime, race with them.”