The creature’s partner scrambled away and hid in the
shadows at the result of Rocky’s shot. Screams had died.
Was it caused by the explosive sound of the pistol shot.
The only sound was the rumbling Diesels.
Hector was scratched and bloody, but got up and ran to
the Humvee. “Get in Rocky,” he yelled.
“Gotta get my truck.”
“No time, get in.”
Hector had the Humvee running. Rocky got in beside him
and they peeled out into the afternoon sun. Behind them
roared eighteen-wheelers.
Hector looked in the rear-view and saw three rigs
following. Their rise and fall offered a study in
syncopation. The Humvee and trailers followed each on the
dirt road that led to La Rumorosa.
They got on the highway and headed back towards
Mexicali. The Diesels followed like huge bellowing animals.
Hector was bent over the wheel and was focused on the road.
Rocky looked out the back window. The MAC truck was slowly
gaining on them. The driver wore dark glasses. Did the
light bother him? His skull facial hadn’t changed but Rocky
sensed it was very close to a leer. Both hands were on the

wheel and it changed its bony body position as if it were
going to turn into the Humvee.
“Look at his wheels Hector.”
“He’s got those long lug nuts. Must be a foot long,
they’re like scythes.”
“He’s coming over,” yelled Rocky.
The creature snapped his wheel over and ran into the
Humvee. A ripping tearing sound ran through the car. The
Muertos pulled away to do the maneuver again.
The semi rammed the four by again.
“This don’t look good, Hector.”
“No shit.”
The words were spoken as Hector and Rocky were upside
down in a roll doing seventy miles an hour.

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