Randolph studied the dash. Right, England, so the whole wheel and pedals were ass-backwards. Bucking up, he started the car, hoping he remembered to stay on the right… no left… side of the road.
His phone chirped. “Hey, Ran, you coming?”
“On my way.”
“You remember the directions?”
“Turn at the lightning-split tree then straight on to the boonies.”
“Don’t have boonies here. Call it the way-back-of-beyond. Don’t get lost.”
Three hours later, he pulled to the side of the road. He’d remembered to stay on the left – most of the time – but now he was lost. He looked at his phone. No signal.
The forest hung quiet, trees casting him in shadow. Too quiet. The thrum of something stared in his feet, moving up his body. Why had he ever come to England? Honor? Prestige? Blah. Blah. He just wanted to be home.
A small metallic blue car whizzed past. Framed in the back window, a small girl stared back at him, waving, beckoning him to follow. His hand started towards the gear shift. The car drew away until all he could see was a dog staring back at him, teeth bared.