As she pulled him to his feet, Davey asked his mom a question—“Who are those guys?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I think they’re here to help. They’re telling me the same things you are.” She helped her son climb into the SUV.
“You’re the guy who tried to help Dr. Stuart.” Davey said, pointing to Mike.
“Yeah,” said Mike. “He was my friend. How did you know?”
“I saw it,” said Davey. “Before.”
Mike reached out towards Davey’s face and then pulled his hand back. “You have a little spot of something on your cheek,” Mike said.
Melanie pulled out a tissue and wiped Davey’s face.
“Does that happen a lot?” asked Mike.
“What?” asked Melanie.
“Those marks,” said Mike.
“Yes. Since he was a baby,” said Melanie. “The doctors say it’s nothing to worry about.”
“It’s true then,” said Mike. “The ancient stories say that those with the poisoned blood will bear the mark.”
“That’s absurd,” said Melanie.
Morris had his head out the window, looking back down the street. He pulled his head back inside. “Drive,” he said to Mike.
“Where?” asked Mike.
“Where does that go?” Morris asked, pointing south.
The men in the front seat looked around at Melanie.
“All the way to the river,” she answered. “It ends at route 196.”
“Then go,” said Morris, pointing to be perfectly clear. “Fast.”
“Okay,” said Mike. “We’re going to have to get some gas soon though, I didn’t start with a full…”
His statement was cut off by an enormous bang from the rear of the vehicle. Susan’s hands flew to her face as she screamed; the SUV rocked with the impact.
Mike’s foot slammed on the brake pedal instinctively. His first thought was that they had somehow hit a deer. The doctor’s truck rocked up onto its left wheels and hung there before starting its descent back to the pavement.
“Go!” Morris yelled. His deep voice filled the cabin of the truck and everyone shrunk in their seats. Mike moved his foot from the brake and stabbed down at the accelerator. He pulled back and thrust again when the truck didn’t move. The engine whined and revved, but seemed disconnected—the truck didn’t accelerate. Suddenly, when the wheels regained their place on the pavement, the SUV lurched into action.
“Where is it?” asked Melanie. She spun around in her seat, looking out the tinted back windows. The big window on the right, on the passenger’s side of the cargo area, had a small hole near the top. Spidering cracks traced away from the hole.
“He’s at the end of the block,” said Davey.
“What?” said Mike. “What the hell hit us then?”
“A rock,” said Morris.
“Fuck,” said Mike. “A rock did that?” The vehicle swerved as Mike spun around in his seat and looked the hole in the window.
“Just drive,” Melanie yelled. “And watch your language, please. Honey, we’re going to be okay,” Melanie said to her daughter. Susan’s hands still clutched either side of her face in fear.
Morris thrust his head outside the window while Mike accelerated. He pulled back in and spoke—“He’s still chasing. We’re pulling away, but just barely. Don’t slow down too much for the stop.”
“What?” asked Melanie. She spun in her seat to look out the back. “How could he possibly keeping up with us? We must be going forty-five. I don’t see anything.”
“There,” said Morris. He pointed as the creature passed under a streetlight. Its huge strides made it almost appear to be moving in slow motion. It was only a hundred yards back.
“What is it?” Melanie whispered. She spun back around to address the men in the front seat—“You said a man was after us. That’s no man. The rock that thing threw nearly knocked us over, and now it’s running as fast as we’re driving?”
“Hold on,” said Mike. He let the truck drift to the right side of the street, near the curb so he could get a better angle on the turn. Leaning forward over the wheel, he tried in vain to get a look at the cross street, to spot any oncoming traffic.
“We’re fine,” said Morris. “Just do it.”
Mike nodded and leaned back. He positioned his hands on the right side of the wheel so he could pull the vehicle left. Barely slowing, Mike tapped the brake pedal as the truck raced towards the stop sign. Melanie turned to look for the monster. As Mike whipped the truck around the turn she saw the hulking dark form zip off into the woods.
Her heart slowed, as if it were freezing in her chest. “He’s coming,” she said.
Once they’d safely made the turn, Morris turned to assess how much ground they had lost. “What do you mean?”
“Through the woods,” said Melanie, “he’s going to cut us off.”
This proclamation seemed to wake Susan from her stupor. She spun to her left, smacking her hands against the window, trying to peer into the woods passing by. “Faster!” she cried.
“I’ve got it floored,” Mike yelled.
Melanie leaned over Davey and joined her daughter at the side window.
“We’re doing almost seventy now,” said Mike. “I’m certain he can’t go that fast.”
“Not alone,” said Davey.
“Do you know where he is?” Melanie turned to her son. “Like before? Can you tell?”
“He doesn’t want me to know,” said Davey. “And there’s nobody else to see him.”
“What does that mean?” asked Susan.
“We’re coming up on the highway,” said Mike.
“South,” said Morris.
“Yes, south,” agreed Melanie. “My mother-in-law lives down that way.”
“Okay, hold on to something,” said Mike. “I don’t want to lose speed.” The SUV had an even harder time with the right turn. The high-speed turn made the vehicle lurch to the side. At the apex of the turn, when Mike was losing confidence that the vehicle’s wheels would stay planted on the pavement, Morris reached over and corrected the position of the steering wheel. He gave a little ground to the radius of the turn but all four tires stayed on pavement.
Mike merged with the sparse highway traffic and nudged the SUV up to seventy-five before setting the cruise control.
“Won’t this thing go faster?” asked Melanie.
“We can’t afford to get pulled over,” said Mike. “And I think this should be fast enough to gain some ground.”
“What about gas?” asked Melanie.
“What’s that?” Mike glanced in the rearview mirror.
“You said we needed gas—how much is left?”
“Oh,” said Mike. He studied the instruments. “A little less than a quarter tank, whatever that means. Fifty miles, maybe?”
“We’ll need more,” said Morris. He fished out his cell phone and pulled up his address book.
“Why? Where are we going?” asked Mike.
“We’ve got to see my cousins,” said Morris. “They’re the only ones who can help us.”
“This is crazy,” Susan interjected. “Mom, why are you going along with this. This is all Davey’s fault. Why did you get us into all this crazy stuff?” she shoved her brother. He sat motionless, not reacting to the push.
“Susan,” said Melanie. “None of this is your brother’s fault.”
“Whose fault is it then? That thing is chasing him. He’s only been dreaming about it forever,” she asserted.
In the front seat, Morris connected with his cousin. Melanie hushed her daughter so she could hear the conversation. As Mike drove steadily down the highway, everyone in the car listened in on Morris’s end of the phone call.
“S’me,” he said when the connection was made. “That giant’s awake,” he said. “I know.” He listened for a long time, Melanie began to wonder if his cousin was still on the line when he talked again. “Maybe hour and a half.” He disconnected the phone.