In the enclosed cab of the pickup truck, Mitchell’s reek was almost suffocating. Eva detected an earthy foulness that seemed to come not from his breath, as was usually the case, but from his entire being, like the wet decay of rotting vegetation. She glanced sideways at him from the passenger seat, not wanting him to notice. Some dark, syrupy ooze had streamed from his broad-lipped mouth and run down his chin. It was gloomy, but she thought she noticed some of the same stuff beginning to trickle from his right ear.

Eva turned away, resuming her stare out the front windshield. She inspected the tear on the inside of her bottom lip with her tongue, still tasting blood. Mitchell had caught her completely by surprise when she’d opened the kitchen door. He’d struck her with a closed fist. She would’ve fought back had he not been armed. Now, she rode shotgun; her hands on her lap, wrists bound with rope.

“Where’re we going?” she asked. He didn’t answer. He just looked ahead, bobbing with each bump along the dirt path.

Mitchell had always been strange. From day one, Eva was told to keep her distance, that he was “unbalanced,” as Kay had put it. Even Laird, who, despite being around forty years old, was still strong and athletic – and a prick at times himself - didn’t mess with him. Mitchell only ever backed down to Grant. Eva supposed it had something to do with his past military service. Perhaps he needed and responded to an authority figure. Then again, he had been booted from the military, so…

From the corner of her eye, Eva spotted a light flickering through the dark maze of stalks and twisted greenery to her right. A bright white glare, filtering through the crops. She risked a peek at Mitchell and found him focused on the path before them. He didn’t seem to notice the light.

Turning back to it, Eva saw that it was travelling beside them, in the same direction, a few feet above the ground. But not parallel. She then noted that the round brilliance had a twin. Headlights.

One of the tractors.

The tractors were programmed to automatically return to their corrals at sundown. If she figured correctly, the paths of this tractor and the pickup would eventually intersect. An idea bloomed in Eva’s mind and if it were to work, she couldn’t let Mitchell see the tractor. She leaned against the passenger window to obscure his view, should he turn his head in her direction.

“Your friend,” said Mitchell. “Where is he?”

“My…friend?” asked Eva. She assumed he meant Alex, since he’d showed up at his farmhouse, but she feigned ignorance. When Mitchell didn’t speak, she felt inclined to add to her response. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Like fuck, you don’t.”

“Sorry,” she said sarcastically, “is swearing supposed to make me understand you better?”

“Bitch,” he grumbled. “You know goddamned well who I mean. That skinny little shit, Alex.”

*********

She knows, Mitchell…

She’s lying…

Steering with his right hand, Mitchell clutched his head with his left, clawed his fingers and dug them into his scalp. He winced and gritted his teeth. The voice. Every time it spoke, his head felt compressed, an abrupt headache squeezing his brain.

Make her tell…

Make her tell…

Make her tell…

*********

As Mitchell grimaced with what appeared to be a headache, Eva stole a glance out the passenger window again. The tractor was keeping pace, but it was closer than before. Its headlights faced ahead and at an angle, causing them to appear as thin, oblong disks floating through the shadowy landscape.

Mitchell seized her left arm, crushing her bicep. Eva yelped with pain. “Tell me where the fuck he is or…”

“Or what, asshole!” She tore her arm free and the brute grinned with obvious delight.

“Or maybe,” he groaned through black-stained teeth, “or maybe I’ll do more than just hurt you a bit.”

Eva’s face grew hot and her forehead produced tiny dots of perspiration. She had an idea of what the creep meant. She was already at a disadvantage with her hands tied. And with a weapon, it wouldn’t take much for him to overwhelm her.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

He checked the dirt road ahead, then turned back to her. “I’ve been dying – just dying – to lay into you since the first time I saw you.”

Eva stared forward at the road between the crop fields. Instead of the truck moving through the twilight, she imagined the ghostly cast of the headlamps pulling the land toward them from the darkness ahead, then dumping it behind them. That was just how the Organism worked, wasn’t it? Using its orbs to take from the land. To absorb the essence from the very ground, and anything else within reach, and then dispose of it.

As if suddenly rushing back to her, Eva remembered traversing the gray, colorless wilderness with Gray and the twins…Henry and Annabelle. The lifeless, ashen world beyond Community. The Organism had stolen the world they’d known.

“Maybe I’ll do what I want with you, then rough you up a little. That way you won’t be a bother once I find Alex. And I will find him. And then…”

Eva believed that he had hesitated for dramatic effect, then thought better of it. He was too dumb to employ drama in his monologue. She glanced over and caught him staring not at her, but past her, through the passenger window.

Shit!

“What in the name of…” he began, furrowing his heavy brow.

Damn, he’d seen the tractor. It was now or never. Eva reached across him, grabbed the steering wheel and jerked it to the right. Then, she scooted to the left and forward and drove both feet down on his right foot, pinning the accelerator to the floor. Mitchell’s eyes bulged. It was the first time she’d seen him scared.

As he fought to regain the wheel, the pickup lurched and the tires spun, then caught ground. It barreled to the right, the headlights’ glare revealing the tractor, a mere ten feet away. In an instant, they crashed into it and were thrown forward. Metal squealed as the hood folded in on itself. The windshield blew inward, spraying the cab with globules of safety glass. Minimally impacted, the tractor plowed the smaller pickup out of the way, rolling it onto the driver’s side then autonomously continued along the path.

Eva was prevented from falling against Mitchell by her seatbelt. Despite the safety harness, she had still slammed into the dashboard. When she surveyed the damage however, she realized that the dash had been driven back into her. Her ribs were sore, but she figured that was better than a crushed skull or broken neck.

Mitchell was turned away from her, his face resting in the now deflated airbag. From this angle, the passenger window faced the sky and therefore, little light seeped into the cab. She was unable to see if Mitchell had suffered any trauma. She hoped he had.

Scrambling for something to grab, she turned and curled her fingers around the open window to her right and braced herself for the release of the seatbelt, which was currently supporting her. He depressed the button, transferring the weight to her arms.

Movement below her. Mitchell shifted in his seat and moaned. “The fuuuck…”

Grunting, Eva pulled with all her strength. Her swinging feet found the headrest of the seat she’d been belted to and kicked off it. She scooted up onto the outside of the skyward-facing passenger side door and swung her legs up and out of the cab. She peered back into the interior and saw Mitchell aiming his rifle at her. Falling backward, the report of gunfire deafening, she hit the ground hard. Frantically, she searched her head and face for a possible wound, wiping and scrutinizing her hands for blood.

He had missed her. Barely.

In the cab, Mitchell was rising. She got to her knees as his sausage-like fingers gripped the rim of the passenger door she had climbed from. The barrel of the rifle emerged into the night air and Eva ran for her life.