Marcus McCullough knew better, when he stumbled up the dark lane. His young wife was left waiting at home, probably sick with worry, but only now did that thought bring guilt to his mind. For many hours before he had been content to bend his elbow, and commiserate to strangers over demotion at his job. The anxiety his lingering there would cause her had been easily pushed out of mind. In the camaraderie of the warm pub he had been glad to share his misery with men who slapped him on the back, and bought him another drink for the entertainment of seeing him sway on the stool. Alone in the empty road, friendly lights going out behind him, at last he turned his thoughts and feet toward home. Only now did he think of her with a sense of longing. In his beer-muddled mind he imagined her sympathetic caress, even as he knew what he deserved was a far harsher touch. So lost was he on this reflection, that he never heard the approaching car until it nearly pushed him into a ditch. He scrabbled at the mud and grass, on his knees, while a few yards on the dark vehicle pulled to a sharp stop. As he gained his feet the passenger side door opened, first a crack, then invitingly wider from an inwards nudge. In the dim starlight- for there was no moon- the car showed dark grey or possibly black, an older model and muddied from traveling the back lanes. The driver, still leaning over from his push of the opposite door, was an indistinct form with eyes that barely showed as glints in the dark interior of the car. There was a sympathetic sound, air sucked through teeth, and a man’s raspy voice projected to the filthy drunkard swaying on the gravel. “You all right?” Marcus gave a nod and put a hand to the car door, for his own stability. If the world had seemed unsteady beneath his feet before, it was no better after sliding halfway to the ditch. His knees were cold where they’d been muddied from striking the ground. There was a flash of teeth from the shadows of the car. “Least I can do after that is give you a lift. Hop in.” The stranger’s voice was gravelly, but friendly and warm. Marcus clambered in with a sense of relief, but continued to nurse a sense of self-pity for his current soggy state. His own voice framed his home address without the need for more coherent thought, and he settled wearily into the seat. The driver gave a vague noise of acknowledgement, and sent the vehicle rolling up the road again. They had not far to go, it was warm inside, and the sound of the engine was a lulling thrum. The ride was lightly jolted by the uneven surface of the road, but it was a familiar sensation. When the jolts began to grow wilder, Marcus found himself roused from a light doze. The dark scenery beyond the car’s windows was a blur. Before them the road was only a brief stretch of gravel, lit by the headlamps, the rest lost in darkness. He could not see well enough to tell their speed, beyond that it was recklessly fast. They seemed to be almost airborne after the larger bumps, landing again with a shock that rang through his bones. Drowsiness was replaced by panic and he clutched at the driver’s arm. “What are you doing?? We’re going too fast!” The answer was only a flash of teeth in a grin, and a low, throaty chuckle. The arm in his grip was powerful, making his fingers feel weak and helpless. They skidded sideways, lurched, and took another leap that made his teeth rattle at the landing impact. Terrified, Marcus slunk away from the stranger, pressing himself against the car door. Adrenaline flooded his system, pushing him through sobriety and out the other side, shaking. The sensation of speed increased, as the driver let out another laugh, wild and taunting. With nerveless fingers Marcus clawed at the handle, and as the door flung wide he realized the folly of trying to escape from a car moving at such a high speed. His momentum carried him tumbling out, shoulder striking the gravel hard enough to scrape through jacket and shirt. The impact carried him skidding in the mud and slipping sideways, into a shallow stretch of cold muck. The car was lost in an instant, but the wild laugh seemed carried back to him on the wind. As he fought his way up the bank, the clouds shifted to uncover the moon, and his progress was halted by what he saw. On the verge of the embankment, as he climbed up to the road, was a pair of shallow ruts in the mud as if from a pair of knees dug in to stop a fall. When he clambered out of the ditch into the gravel lane, he could see the dim shape of the dark pub just down the bend. The echo of the laugh seemed to follow him the whole walk home.