On the two-lane asphalt road that wound like a serpent through the blackness, the wheel of Lyla's car dropped off the edge of the pavement. The car bounced violently. When she yanked the steering wheel with trembling hands, the tire climbed back up onto the blacktop.

The hallucinogenic effects of the drugs were intense and growing stronger. She was drawn to the yellow glow emanating from her headlights. The headlight beams sliced the darkness and bent in unusual patterns and colors, clusters of insects dancing in the light.

Lyla clenched her eyelids, then opened them wide. She couldn't focus. She glanced in the rearview mirror. Her pupils were enormous, as though she had someone else's eyes in her head staring back at her.

The car stuttered, the dashboard lit up, and the engine died.

"No!... Oh, God, no. Please."

Her car drifted to the side of the road and rolled to a stop. She recited a quiet prayer and tried the ignition.

Nothing.

Another try. Her prayers went unanswered. The dash lights faded.

She jumped when her ringtone went off. It was Darcy. Finally. She sobbed so hard that she couldn't form words. She put the phone to her ear.

"Lyla, you still at the party?" Darcy sounded worried. "You okay?"

"I... uh, I'm..."

"What? I can't hear you."

"I'm out on some damn country road somewhere. My car broke down."

"You're breaking up."

Lyla swallowed her tears.

Darcy pressed, "Why didn't you wait—"

"--He attacked me!"

"What?"

"Keenan, that piece of crap tried to...!" Her body shook from the ugly memory.

"I'm coming to get you. Where are you?"

"I don't even know. He put something in my drink, so I can't remember."

When the call dropped, so did Lyla's heart. She desperately dialed again. No service. She slammed down her phone and made a futile attempt to start her car. The dim yellow lights drained from the dashboard leaving only diffused moonlight for illumination.

Lyla sat in silence looking out at the ominous countryside, biting her quivering lower lip. The gray and white stripes on her top appeared to be moving in opposite directions, turning slowly. She rubbed her eyes.

She stepped out onto the roadway and zipped her jacket against the cold. The road seemed to rise and fall beneath her boots, disorienting her. It took a few moments before she realized that she'd been tripped by a wide pothole.

"Shit!" she muttered as she got to her wobbly feet, wiping the cinders from her scuffed hands.

Her ringtone momentarily offered hope. The incoming call said KEENAN. She didn't answer.

"Ass!" she snarled.

A pair of headlights approached from behind. She turned toward the vehicle and waved her arms.

"Help! Help me!"

The car zipped past. A short distance down the roadway, the driver slammed on the brakes, and then she heard a familiar, but terrifying voice.

"Lyla? Is that you?"

She saw backup lights and heard tires squealing when the car retraced its path in her direction.

She darted into the brush at the side of the road and climbed the hill, watching as his car slowed beside her broken-down vehicle.

He slithered out of his car, and shouted, "Lyla!... Where are you?"

She backed away into the thicket. Keenan went to her car and peered inside.

As she retreated further from the roadway, she winced when she broke a dry branch.

He trotted to the bottom of the embankment and squinted into the blackness.

She cowered on the frigid ground, holding her breath. From her viewpoint, the car's flashers on the dark road pulsed in a trippy glow.

"Damn you, Lyla," he growled. "It's cold. Come out of there."

She held her breath and clamped her eyes shut.

"Okay, then, you little brat," he fumed. "I'm coming after you."