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She tried texting Dante too. Sa result—failed to send.
Patty shoved her phone away and looked at Kevin. "Kevin, any luck?"
Kevin had his headphones on, frantically tweaking the shortwave radio. As a radio nerd, he knew every public channel and police frequency by heart.
"Still trying…" He pulled the headphones off, face tight with nerves. "Might take a while."
The RV rolled smoothly down the highway for another ten minutes.
Outside the windows: sa endless mountains, sa perfect blue sky. No monsters jumping out. No creepy vans full of psychopaths.
The group's tension slowly started to bleed away.
"Ha! Told you!"
Scott, who had been holding his breath the whole ti, finally seized his mont.
He kicked one leg up on the other, smirking straight at Patty like he'd won the lottery. "See, Patty? I said you were watching too many horror movies. It's been forever and not even a single bird."
"You were just freaking out earlier. But it's cool—girls are allowed to be scared. Totally normal."
He leaned forward. "Good thing I'm here. I'll keep everyone safe. Next ti don't make such a big deal out of nothing. Just chill."
Right then—
BANG!!
A massive crunch exploded from under the RV. The whole vehicle started bouncing like it had driven onto a gravel pit.
The front end jerked left and right. The body shook violently. Tires scread, leaving two long black skid marks on the asphalt.
"Fuck!!"
Brad slamd both hands on the wheel, fighting to keep the RV straight.
Chaos erupted inside.
Scott—who hadn't bothered with a seatbelt—flew off the couch and smashed into the liquor cabinet. Blood poured down his forehead.
Micki scread and ducked, covering her head. Kevin curled into a ball around his radio in the passenger seat.
Patty stayed ice-calm.
She'd grown up around demons. Instead of panicking, she dropped her center of gravity, grabbed the handrail with one hand, and instinctively reached into her backpack with the other.
The cold tal touch of the gun inside gave her a tiny bit of comfort.
SCREEEEECH!
The brakes finally caught. The RV left a ssy zigzag of tire marks before shuddering to a stop on the shoulder.
"Sunshine Beach my ass! Brad, you fucking idiot! Can you even drive?!"
Scott crawled up off the floor, clutching his bleeding forehead, face twisted in rage. "My head! Goddamn it—if this scars I'm suing!"
Brad was still white-knuckling the wheel, heart hamring. He'd barely kept them from flipping. Now he snapped back, "The tire blew! What the hell was I supposed to do?! I checked every tire before we left!"
He shoved the door open and stord out to inspect the damage.
The second he rounded the back, he froze.
The right rear tire was completely flat—rubber sliced into jagged strips. The air reeked of burnt rubber.
Brad squatted down. The cut looked way too clean, like sothing insanely sharp had sliced straight through in one go.
He glanced back at the road behind them. Perfectly smooth asphalt. No spikes, no road traps.
"Fuck!! What the hell!!"
Brad kicked the ruined tire hard, then grabbed his head and staggered back. "We're screwed!"
Patty and the others climbed out one by one.
"What happened?"
Patty walked over, crouched, and shone her phone flashlight under the wheel. Sothing shiny glinted inside the shredded rubber.
"What is that?"
She reached in carefully, gripped the object, and yanked it free with a wet shluck.
A weird four-pointed throwing star—made of bone—sat in her palm.
It looked exactly like the ninja weapons from those late-night action movies Soren had forced her to watch. Except this wasn't tal. The edges were ground razor-sharp, and the center was wrapped in sothing that felt disturbingly like… human skin.
"Bone?" Kevin stared at it, voice shaky. "So kind of animal bone sharpened into a dart? It cut through a steel-belted tire?"
Steel-belted tires were supposed to laugh at nails. This thing had sliced one open like butter.
"Who the hell would do sothing this twisted?!" Micki stared at the ruined tire in horror. "Throwing crap like this on a highway? They could kill sobody!"
"And this is a rented luxury RV… we're definitely losing the deposit…"
"Has to be so local redneck prank," Scott muttered, still pressing his bleeding forehead. "These hillbilly towns hate rich people. They're just screwing with us."
"Doesn't matter who did it," Patty cut them off, looking at Brad. "Where's the spare? Change it and let's get the hell out of here."
Dead silence.
Brad's face twisted. He shot Scott a guilty look. "Uh… about the spare… we didn't bring one."
"What do you an we didn't bring one?!" Micki shrieked.
"To make room for more beer and Scott's stupid barbecue grill…" Brad threw Scott under the bus without hesitation.
All eyes turned to Scott. He looked away, suddenly very interested in the trees. "Who the hell could've predicted this? Besides, rich people don't change their own tires—we just call roadside assistance!"
Everyone: "…"
The sky slowly turned orange, then deep purple. Night fell.
"Caw—"
A few crows flapped down onto the branches overhead, tilting their heads, blood-red eyes watching the little group setting up camp nearby.
A warm red glow rose in the center of the clearing.
They'd decided to spend the night here. Kevin would keep trying the radio. If he couldn't reach anyone, they'd limp out on the flat tire at sunrise.
The campfire crackled, pushing back the evening chill. The five of them sat around the flas, tents already pitched behind them.
Each held a beer or soda. Faces tired. Nervous.
Patty had strongly argued against camping in the open with unknown danger nearby. She'd wanted everyone to stay locked inside the RV and wait for Kevin to get through to rescue.
But Scott had insisted the RV felt too cramped and stuffy. He called Patty paranoid and declared they were throwing a "wild barbecue party" to lighten the mood.
"Co on, everybody! Sure, we hit a little snag, but it's still spring break!"
Scott raised his beer, trying to force the vibe. "Cheers! To adventure!!"
"Cheers…"
The others muttered half-heartedly, clearly not feeling it.
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