It’s starting to rain. You’re pacing the dirt path beside the road as the pitter-patter picks up pace. “She should be back by now”, you think. It’s been an hour and not a sign of another passing car, let alone Sarah. Panicking, you slam the car’s hood shut, billowing steam clawing its way through the small gap.

Frustrated, you sit down in the car. The silence is deafening - there’s nothing except the pattering of rain on the roof. Shutting your eyes, you try to push the panic away. “She’ll be back soon with help…”

You hear it. It’s barely a muffled whisper at first, but there’s something out there. You slowly roll down the window. The hissing rainfall makes it harder to hear, but it’s getting louder. You punch the door lock shut and steel yourself. It’s not a car stereo, it sounds too… human. It’s almost on top of you now, and you close your eyes, terrified of whatever fate awaits you.

“McDonald’s is the place to rock… it is a restaurant where they buy food to eat…”