I spy with my little eye…

It’s funny, the things one thinks about when staring dramatically out the window. Even funnier, the things we do.

I stopped racing raindrops a few miles back when I kept winning. My mother was right—winning at everything gets unbelievably boring. Who knew a car window would teach me that lesson?

Trailing my eyes lazily over the book on my lap, I deliberate. I could read, but that would mean turning on the overhead light, and I don’t want what’s out there to see me any better than it already does. Besides, reading in the backseat makes me nauseous. Sighing, I look out the window again.

Dark skies press down on the trees lining either side of the road, their jagged silhouettes barely visible beneath the moonlight. But I don’t need to see them to know it is there.

I can feel it. Like the fabric of my clothes against my skin, like the weight of my own breath in my lungs.

It’s waiting. Watching.

It won’t be able to follow us past the state line. Not when it’s tied by its grave deep in the very forest it now lurks in.

If we can just keep moving, if we don’t stop—

My fingers tighten around the seatbelt.

Because in the trunk, wrapped in tarps, are knives. The blood on them should be drying, crusting over, but that doesn’t matter.

It won’t be the knives that get us caught.

It’ll be it.

The road stretches endlessly, twin lines of paint vanishing into the dark. The wipers squeak against the windshield, streaking rainwater instead of clearing it. The radio hums static beneath the commercials, like an unspoken warning.

To whom, though?

“You see it?” Becks asks beside me. 

  Out of the four of us, she’s freaking out the worst. I’ve long since put a barrier between our seats to avoid the worst of her rocking and jittery libs. I give her another flat look, hoping this one will shut her up for the rest of our trip.

“If I did, don’t you think I would have said something by now?” 

She whimpers and turns back to her own window, staring wide-eyed at the trees. 

I meet Rick’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and Theo side-eyes me from the passengers seat. 

None of us say a word.

In truth, I can see it. The shifting shadow that vaults across the street every few feet before melting into the trees. It got so out of hand…it was never…

No. 

We did mean to do it. 

We just didn’t think it’d come back to bite us like it did. Is doing.

What’s also true is that Becks will not be making it past the state limits with us. She can’t be trusted. The minute everything was done and buried —she broke. 

Broken things aren’t always fixable. 

And she is one loose end we cannot risk letting go or it would mean we were all screwed. 

Rick blinks twice. I inhale deeply, sighing quietly through my nose. This is part of the plan. It won’t chase us past the state limits because it can’t, but it also will have no incentive to do so. It’s why we let Becks do it in the first place. 

Theo hums and raises the volume on the radio. Commercials. Figures. Rick blinks one more time. The locks click.

Lightning flashes, bleaching Becks’ side of the car in stark white. She yelps, flinching away from the window. I take my chance, sliding closer and pulling her into an embrace.

“It’ll be okay,” I whisper into her hair.

Becks clutches at me, desperate. I let her. Everyone deserves comfort in the end. I swallow down my goodbyes. 

Theo coughs. I kick at his seat. Shut it, my hit says. The timing needs to be right.

A shift in the trees. Closer now. The weight of something pressing against the night, watching. Expectant.

“Do you hear that?” Becks whispers, voice barely there. “Like…scraping?”

I don’t answer. Because she doesn’t hear scraping. She hears breathing.

“Shh, nothings there. You are just hearing things.” I finally say, petting her hair. 

She doesn’t feel me slide her seatbelt off.

Or reach for the door handle.

The door pops open. 

“Mila?” she whispers. “Wait—”

Her fingers dig into my collar. She feels it now. The open air behind her.

Too late.

I pry her hands off me, using the impulse to send her flying out of the car.

“Sorry.” 

I squeeze her one last time to make the hard push I give her. 

Becks screams.

Her arms flail, desperate. For the door, for me. For anything. Her fingers catch on the seatbelt. All in vain. She tumbles, hitting the pavement in a mess of limbs. I should look away. But I don’t.

It roars. I turn just in time to see it pounce on the prone body on the road through the rear window. 

  Rick finally breathes a sigh of relief. And seeing him do so uncoils the tight knot of tension between my shoulders. Theo closes his eyes and smiles, whistling along with the song playing.

The car feels bigger now. Quieter. I roll my shoulders, adjusting to the absence. Something lingers in the air, something final. Or perhaps something new. Four down to three. A new dynamic. Interesting.

It’s a shame but change is necessary sometimes and there is no better time than right now, isn’t that the saying?

I unbuckle my seat belt and close the car door. Smooth. Careful. I lean between the front seats, smirking at Theo. He rolls his eyes, shaking his head fondly. I kiss Rick on the cheek, breathing in his cologne. He reaches up to stroke my cheek. Takes his eyes off the road long enough to kiss the corner of my mouth.

“Not a word,” he murmurs.

“To our grave.” I grin.

It roars behind us. Becks doesn’t. 

We cross the state limits.

I sit back. The rain races down my window enthusiastically. Would you look at that: I win again.

Just two more hours to get home.