The camera at ground level, pointed up the road to a curve between a thick grove of trees and low vegetation. A squirrel eating an acorn on top of an old stump holds it mid-air and raises its head quickly, quizzically looking toward the curve before scampering off.
The whine of an engine rises in intensity. Soon, a downshift is heard and the sudden scream of high RPMs. Tires squealing, a low black Trans Am fishtails through the curve throwing out dirt and rocks from the shoulder. With a slight over-correction snap, it straightens and shoots out of the end of the curve like a bat out of hell. RPMs rising, the beast is a blur and a roar of big block thunder as it chirps third gear in front of the camera and flies out of frame.
Inside the hurtling steel, Billy Cramer watches his tach and shifts into fourth gear, mid-redline. The shaker scoop sitting on top of the 455 twitches slightly through the hood. He's in a hurry. News of the the half-naked Sorority girls had spread through the small town like wildfire. He was still irritated with his uncle, but he'd promised to help fix the old tractor, and flushing the hydraulic lines was a two man job. He had tried to talk him into doing it tomorrow, but Uncle Bob was having none of that as he didn't want to lose another day. "Listen slacker, you think these beans are gonna plant themselves?," he'd said sarcastically.
The sun was baking as Billy flicked his butt through the open side window, careful that it didn't get caught in the wind tunnel that was blowing his overalls up like a balloon. As soon as the station sign came into view, he started slowing and rowing through the lower gears to decrease momentum. He needed to get gas and go back home to clean up before he hit the swimming hole on the lake. He pointed the car between the islands and skidded to a halt in front of the premium pump.
He popped open the big door with a creak and slammed it shut as he reached for the pump nozzle. He looked around for old Joe as he filled the big tank, but didn't see him in either the office or the open garage bay. "He might be in the back, or maybe on the side sticking the tanks," Billy thought as the numbers on the pump turned over rapidly with a soft ticking sound. He craned his neck to look to the right near the tank covers, and that's when he saw where Joe lay in a bloody heap. "What the...," Billy mumbled as he quickly stopped what he was doing and ran over to the horror that used to be his friend.
Obscured from view, the sound of garbage cans banging together came from the back of the station near the tree line, and then a low inhuman growl...