The 13th by John Everson Page B

slammed her hand down on the dashboard and then swore when it stung from the impact. She turned the key five more times to hear five more clicks, and then got out and slammed the door behind her in disgust.
    She walked back to the trunk, changed her mind and walked to the hood, then turned again to look through the driver’s window at two empty seats.
    “Fuckin’.
    “Piece.
    “Of.
    “Shit.”
    She pronounced each word clearly and distinctly, sending her damnation of the car out to anyone in a five-mile radius. Unfortunately, there most likely wasn’t anyone within a five-mile radius of where the Nova had opted to summarily quit. You could sit for hours overnight on the crossback and not see a soul.
    That’s why Carrie thought it was her lucky day (well, night) when the headlights broke over the ridge heading in her direction—toward Oak Falls. It was at least another twenty miles, and she did not want to attempt walking it. God knows what mightpick up her scent from the hills and choose her as an easy dinner. There were bears, wolves, even a mountain lion or two up in those hills. She stood halfway in the oncoming lane and waved both hands frantically. The car slowed, and pulled in right behind hers.
    A black Mustang.
    Two men got out of the still-running car and started toward her. The driver, a big man in a lumberjack flannel, waved a broad hand. “What’s a matter, ma’am, you stuck?”
    “Fuckin’ piece of shit Nova just quit, just like that,” she said. “I just had it in for a tune-up a month ago.”
    “Mechanic probably left a screw loose,” the big man said, finally reaching her and extending a palm. “I’m TG,” he said, and nodded at the smaller man, who wore dark clothes to match his shadowed eyes. His nose was long though, giving him a birdlike look in the harsh shadows of the Mustang headlights. “This is my partner Billy. We can take a look under the hood if you like, and if we can’t fix it, we can at least drive you into town.”
    “Thanks,” Carrie said, trying unobtrusively to straighten her blouse and hair as the two men moved to the front of the car.
    “Go ahead and pop the hood,” TG said.
    She opened the driver’s door and leaned down to find the latch that released the lock on the front hood. It was just a small handle, but she’d never had a problem finding it before (not that she opened it much, but every now and then she added wiper fluid to the car herself). Naturally, now that two guys were waiting on her, she couldn’t seem to find it. Her fingers flitted through invisible space, grasping at nothing and coming up with…nothing.
    “Let me help you,” the smaller man’s voice said from behind her.
    Carrie jumped, just a little, and she pulled up from her crouch to flash the man a nervous smile of thanks. But the look froze on her face and transformed into something that wasn’t very thankful at all. Because the hook-nosed man was not there to help her. He was definitely there to hurt her. The blade that suddenly pressed cold and sharp against the underside of her throat said that her car was not going to get fixed tonight.
    She was.
    “Fuckin’ piece of shit,” she whispered for the third time that night. Only this time she wasn’t talking about the Nova.
    “What do you want?” she whispered. “I don’t have much money. If I did…I wouldn’t be driving this.”
    TG’s face peered over Billy’s shoulder. He wore a grin that showed yellow teeth and an unsympathetic mean streak. “Well, for starters,” he said, “you could unbutton that blouse. That ought to be worth a buck or two.”
    Deep inside Carrie’s stomach, a pin pricked. And that pinprick opened a hole that grew and grew, as ice water cascaded from somewhere deep within her worst nightmares and filled her belly with terror. She suddenly knew without a doubt that she was not going to get back to Oak Falls tonight, or probably ever.
    With trembling, clumsy hands she released the buttons on her