The wind howled in tandem with the mournful cries of the coyotes, blasting stinging grains of sand in her face as she walked along the empty stretch of two-lane highway.  She pulled up the collar of her inadequate, light-weight jacket, her left hand holding her flash-light tightly, her fingers cramping from tension. The battery was waning, soon she would be without its comforting glow.

 She would have been smarter to stay with her car.  She had waited, two hours, but no one passed by since her engine ground to a halt with a high-pitched, death rattle.

 Where was she? Utah?  Nevada?  She was lost, horribly, hopelessly lost.

 "Coyotes aren't dangerous." She said, trying very hard to convince herself.  "They're more afraid of you than you are of them."

 Go back. Go back to your dead car.  Stay there.  Somebody has to come by sometime.

 She couldn't follow her own advice.

 She looked about the dark, deserted road.

 She felt like the only person alive.

 She stopped, hesitating.  Uncertain whether to continue or go back.  The flash light flickered and died quietly.

 "Shit!" She muttered, shaking the flash-light as if this would cause the defunct batteries to magically re-energise.

 Up ahead she saw the sudden faint glow of head lights, coming her way, growing larger by the moment.  She started waving her arms frantically, hoping the driver could see her.  It was a tractor trailer.

 Good. Truckers were a friendly lot, right?  Knights of the Road.  Good Samaritans on mega-wheels.

 The massive vehicle whooshed by her, the violent air in its wake, howling loudly as she fought to keep her footing.

 Great. Either he didn't see her or he did and didn't care.

 The truck slowed up ahead.  The bright red of its brake lights was a most welcoming sight.

 She broke into a rapid trot, afraid that the driver might change his mind, if she didn't hurry the three hundred yards separating them.

 "Hi!"  She panted, reaching the truck as the driver opened his window.  "My car broke down."

 "Where's your car?"  He asked, frowning suspiciously.

 "It's down the road.  I waited for two hours.  No one came by . . . I thought. . ."  She stopped, embarrassed by her own stupidity.

 "You should have stayed with your car.  Safer."  He indicated for her to come around the passenger side and opened the door for her.

 It was quite the climb up and she felt foolish and awkward.

 "I'll take a look at it if you want."  He offered, reaching past her to make sure the passenger door was closed properly.

 "Don't think it would do any good.  It was on its last legs.  It's dead. If you would give me a lift to the nearest town, I can arrange for a rental. . . I'm a little turned around . . . I'm not even sure where I am . . ." She trailed off with an embarrassed chuckle.

 "Utah, fifty miles from Wendover.  We'll be there in about forty-five minutes. Kind of deserted out here."  He smiled, his gaze roaming over her with friendly interest.  "Name's Steve, Steve Chase."

 "Andrea Bennett."  Andrea gazed up at the night sky, biting her lip as the moon fought its way out from behind the cloud cover.

 Shit. No.  Not now!

 "Need anything from your car?"  Steve asked, slowing down as the truck approached the stalled vehicle.  He heard a growl as he turned to face his passenger. His eyes widened and he grunted in surprise at the vicious howl emanating from the creature now beside him. 

 "Oh, hell," was his last thought before she tore his throat with her sharp, fang-like teeth.