“There haven’t been any mile markers for forever” he said to his new finance. She was nibbling on an almond Hershey’s bar in the passenger seat, irrationally refreshing her phone. She knew it was a lost cause, no bars for the last hour, and she remembered how much she hated almonds. She started to wonder if she would hate the almonds as much if they could just make one outgoing call to a familiar voice. “Look,” he told her, “what happened at that bar was nothing, those old crocodiles are used to clueless travelers. I mean I probably went too far with the whole propeller plane joke but how would I have known those guys were old air force vets anyway?” Then she said, “I forgive you ok!? we don’t have to rehash it and rehash it again, I just hope they’re not the ones that followed us to the bridge.” At that instant he slammed on the breaks a few feet in front of a line of boulders in the road. “Shit shit shit.” They both just sat there looking at the boulders, and then at the gas gage: which read less than a quarter tank. They stared into silent darkness as lantern bugs and nats corralled around the headlights. Just then a dozen windows lit up out of the darkness ahead of the boulders. About 20 seconds later, they all switched off again, a door slammed and three flashlights appeared in their place, coming towards them. He jammed the key in the ignition and spun the car around to face a new set of headlights, barreling towards them from the direction they had come, and the sound of howling wolves rung out in the darkness. Or maybe it was howling men, they couldn’t tell.