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The Lewis family stopped for dinner at the Elk Creek Bar & Grill. During her youth, Will's
mother came here every Friday night for the fish fry. Although it was Sunday and no fish
were frying, "The Elk" was a fitting place to honor her father.
It was a quiet dinner. No one said more than an occasional comment on their food (Will's
parents both order "Elk Burgers," a local tradition. Being a self-proclaimed vegetarian,
Will was happy with grilled cheese and french fries).
Will needed all of his self-control not to ask what the argument was about. Not knowing
drove him crazy with curiosity, but Mr. Lewis was gripping his burger tight enough to break
the bun. Not a sign of calming down. So Will held his tongue, at least for a bit longer.
Once they were well fed, the Lewis' got back in their car for the trip back to Beloit.
It was already dark, and the snow that came in gentle flakes earlier now fell in flurries.
Mr. Lewis let the car warm up before driving, and Will sensed an opportunity.
"That was quite a funeral," he said. Mr. Lewis didn't respond. Mrs. Lewis nodded
and said "I think Grandpa Connor would have been happy to see how many people came."
"Yeah." Will tried to pick his words carefully. "It seems like everyone really liked him."
Mrs. Lewis gave a pained smiled. "He did a lot of good, for a lot of people."
The car pulled out of the parking lot. There weren't many cars on the roads in town,
but those that were out were driving slowly tonight. The wind was picking up, bombarding
the windshield with snowflakes. "Did Uncle Barbason like him?" Will asked.
This time, silence was his only response. "I mean, I don't remember seeing them
together a lot," Will continued. "Except at Grandma Eleanor's funeral. I saw them
talking a lot then." As they merged onto highway I-43, the car
felt colder than it did without the heater. "They... Had very different interests,"
Mrs. Lewis finally said. "What were they talking about? Do you know?"
Mr. Lewis spoke for the first time since dinner. "You would have to ask your great-uncle."
"Was that what you asked him?" Will said. Once the floodgate of questions was open,
he couldn't stop himself. "That's not important," Mr. Lewis said.
"He sounded angry." "He might have been."
"What were you talking about?" "Nothing."
"Was it about Grandma Eleanor?" "No."
"Grandpa Connor?" "Leave it alone, son."
Was it about Mom?" "That's enough, William," Mr. Lewis said loudly.
Will shrunk into his seat. He found his boundary,
and pushed it one question too far. He had a feeling it was going to be a very quiet
car ride. They drove through the snow without another
word. Will watched the open countryside; even though it was night time, the sheet of snow
reflected enough light to see the passing landscape.
Something caught his attention. In the distance, a dark spot stood out against the backdrop
of white. It was too far to make out any shape, only the indistinct silhouette of an object
not covered in snow. Will thought it was odd, and wondered with only half-interest what
it could be. Then the silhouette moved.
In that moment goosebumps covered Will's body. He didn't expect it to be alive. There
was no mistaking its movements; the mystery spot was some kind of animal. And, judging
from the speed and direction, it was an animal with a purpose.
Will had a grim realization as he traced its path. It's headed towards the highway!
"D-Dad," he said, his voice quivering. "What's that?"
Mr. Lewis glanced over for just a moment. In this weather, he needed to keep his eyes
on the road. "Probably just a cow, son." As the shadow got closer, Will saw two tiny
yellow lights on the creature. Eyes, he thought. Its eyes are reflecting light from the cars.
Will had the horrible impression the eyes were looking right at him.
"Seriously Dad, what is that?" he said. He was quickly rising to panic.
What came next happened so fast, Will could barely keep up.
Within seconds the silhouette was nearly to the road, on a collision course with their
car. Will had just enough time to wonder if the creature was aware of the speeding vehicle
before the shape (huge from this distance) leapt high off the ground. A moment of silence.
Then, with a thunderous boom, the car shook violently off its lane. The metal roof sunk
in from the weight of impact. That thing landed on us!
Mr. Lewis swore. He tried to regain control of the car, but the back wheels fishtailed
in the fresh snow. Before Will could grasp one thing that happened,
another interrupted him. Will started to say "What's going on?"
But his voice caught in his throat as he saw it; the dark shape of a gigantic claw swinging
in front of the windshield. The sound of shattering glass was nothing compared to the relentless
howling of the wind, hitting them headfirst at over 65 miles per hour. Will covered his
face before being showered in glass shards. He couldn't see, but he could feel. He felt
pain as dozens of cuts lacerated his body. He felt freezing wind choke the breath from
his lungs. He felt the car sway dangerously. Will peered out from the cover of his arms
for just a second. His eyes instantly dried up and stung, but he caught a glimpse of what
was happening. That claw reached forward, pinning Mr. Lewis
to his seat. He wasn't moving. Mrs. Lewis was struggling to free her husband.
She was drenched in blood, large pieces of glass still caught in her skin.
And, barely visible against the dark background, was the face of the creature.
Will couldn't see its shape or features. But he saw those eyes; two glowing yellow
embers taken from the hearth of Hell. The car shook again.
The wheels turned, out of control. They left pavement.
Spun wildly. And then, with a final ear-splitting crash,
Will was unconscious.