Chapter 2 Creatures

The thought of finding out was decidedly unappealing. She slowly backed away from the ridge's edge, retreating until the imposing creature was out of sight. Would it charge? The possibility sent a fresh wave of adrenaline through her. She wouldn't stand a chance of outrunning it. Spotting a large boulder, she scrambled behind it, peering cautiously in the direction of the animal. Perhaps it hadn't seen her. After several tense minutes, convinced the beast wasn't about to pursue her, she cautiously climbed onto the boulder, her mind racing as she tried to formulate a plan.

The sun was dipping closer to the ridge-line of the mountains ahead, and she thought again of the safety and comfort of the motel bed she had imagined. Strengthened again by her desire to be safe and comfortable, she braved topping the rise once more. She hunched low as she worked toward the summit. She saw nothing, finally peering over the top of the rise only to discover that the animals were no longer there. She strode boldly up to the top and hoped to see the house not far away in the distance. Again, all she saw was another sage-covered rise with two wheel ruts up and over it. She had driven over that in her car?

The silence was suddenly shattered by a rustle in the brush ahead. A sleek, grey form emerged, pausing to fix its gaze upon her. Its muzzle was a mosaic of gold, grey, and black, framing narrowed eyes that held a glint of mocking intelligence. A subtle smirk seemed to curl its lips, and she couldn't shake the feeling that it was deliberately provoking her. The sight of the coyote sent a prickle of unease down her spine as she struggled to recall if they posed a threat. Rooted to the spot, she tried to process the situation.

Then, another movement caught her eye. A second coyote, identical to the first, appeared nearby. A cold wave of dread washed over her, her heart beginning to pound against her ribs. Was she trapped? A glance behind revealed nothing but brush, and when she turned back, the first coyote had vanished. The second, after a lingering sniff in her direction, melted back into the undergrowth as well. She squinted, realizing they hadn't gone far, merely receded into the shadows of the roadside sage. Their shapes were still discernible, pointed ears, predatory eyes, and that unnerving smirk, all fixed on her from the brush. Survival instinct kicked in; her car was her only sanctuary. She had to get back to it, had to lock herself away from whatever lurking threat they represented. What if there were more, waiting to attack her?

With a surge of adrenaline, she moved back in the direction she’d come, her jeans and boots hindering her progress as she fought for balance. Her breath hitched in her chest, a panicked gasp against the thin air, but she dared not stop. The thought of them following, of them cutting off her escape, propelled her forward. Her eyes scanned the ground, and she snatched up two fist-sized rocks for a meager defense. As she crested the next rise, the sight of her car, a beacon of safety, offered a glimmer of hope. A portion of her panic receded.

The car was mere minutes away. No coyotes blocked her path, and her initial fear began to ebb, replaced by the relief of a clear route ahead. Suddenly, a blur of motion erupted from the brush. A strangled scream tore from her throat as she spun around, dropping the rocks, her resolve to defend herself evaporating. She stumbled, catching herself on a sagebrush, feeling the sharp prickle of a branch against her leg, which sent a fresh wave of terror through her. For a heart-stopping moment, she was convinced a coyote's teeth had clamped down on her flesh, ready to tear her apart. She thrashed, and the branch loosened its grip. Then she saw the plump, grey bird flapping awkwardly through the air, fleeing the scene. Her assailant.

Sitting up, she surveyed the dense brush around her. No cunning eyes met her gaze, no mocking muzzles glinted in the fading light. The sage was silent, devoid of any further avian or canine threats. Her car, still a hundred yards away, promised safety. Drawing strength from that prospect, she rose, brushed herself off, and stepped back onto the road.

The hurried walk to her car was blessedly uneventful. Once inside with the door locked, she peered out into the encroaching dusk. The sagebrush began to merge into an indistinct mass of grey, and she strained her eyes, searching for any sign of pointed ears or sharp eyes. Nothing.

She had outwitted them, she told herself. She was safe. They couldn't reach her. As a sense of calm began to settle, a far more mundane, yet insistent, need asserted itself. "Shit, I have to pee!"

After a valiant but futile battle against the urge, she conceded. Leaving the car was a risk, but a necessary one. Her plan was simple: a quick dash out, relieve herself, and a swift return to the sanctuary of her vehicle. She reasoned that she'd be close enough to retreat if the coyotes appeared. She unlocked the door with agonizing slowness, praying the click wouldn't betray her. Slipping out, she moved with exaggerated caution, every nerve on high alert.

The process of easing her tight jeans down her hips was a tense, drawn-out affair, but she managed it, her eyes darting in every direction, her ears straining for the slightest sound. The silence was profound, almost deafening. Instead of feeling reassured, her mind conjured images of coyotes creeping closer, poised to pounce in the unnerving quiet.

She had just finished when a chorus of piercing cries erupted, shattering the stillness. In an instant, she yanked her jeans back into place and scrambled back into the car, slamming the door and fumbling with the lock.

The night became a symphony of terror. It began with a sharp yip, a lone coyote’s cry piercing through the sagebrush. Soon, it was joined by a chorus, dozens of voices rising and falling around her, culminating with a chilling, high-pitched wail that echoed through the darkness. A primal fear seized her; she was convinced a pack of coyotes was about to descend, their snapping jaws mere inches from her windshield. She had to escape their gaze, to disappear. Crawling into the back seat, she frantically pulled the contents of her bags over her body, a desperate attempt at camouflage, as she endured the surrounding demonic cacophony. Trembling, she succumbed to sobs once more.

She berated herself for her foolishness, the sheer idiocy of undertaking this journey alone. Her cell phone, clutched in her hand, offered no solace; its screen remained stubbornly devoid of a signal. Through her ragged breathing, she failed to notice the abrupt cessation of the yipping and wailing. Silence.

She stilled herself, holding her breath, straining to hear the faintest disturbance. Her heart hammered against her ribs with such ferocity that she was sure the coyotes could hear its frantic rhythm. They would find her. They would shatter the glass, tear through the car, and… She fought to regain control of herself, to even her breathing, to quell the rising tide of panic.

Her senses, hyper-alert, desperately sought any sound, any movement that dared to intrude upon the oppressive darkness. The urge to peek out from beneath her makeshift sanctuary was close to unbearable, a powerful, gnawing curiosity. A chill crept into the car, and she shivered, digging through her bags for more garments. They were thin, diaphanous things, designed for allure, not for defense against the elements. “That’s what houses are for,” she whispered, the words a fragile defense against the encroaching despair.

The long, silent hours of the night stretched on before her. Shivering, she tried to conserve what little warmth she possessed, her ears constantly strained, anticipating an attack that never materialized. Exhaustion, relentless in its pursuit, finally claimed her, offering sleep as a reprieve.