His phone wasn’t any better either. No Service. He held it near the windshield, waved it uselessly, then tossed it on the seat. “Fine. Old-school tonight,” he said. No GPS, no radio, no way to call anyone. The truck and the long road would be the only companions tonight. It suited him.
The wind howled against the trailer, a hollow whistle that rose and fell with each gust. He heard a soft shift from inside. It was smooth and deliberate, like something heavy sliding an inch out of place. He froze, listening. Then it stopped. Probably, he hadn’t secured the loose crate enough.