What can YOU say in six sentences?
It came quick from the woods, hugging the north county road, a shifting man-shape of shiny black, like plastic garbage bag, not loping or bounding but racing up to the passenger window as their pickup flashed by. Cade didn’t see it. He was reaching low under the seat, his eye off the road, grasping about for the rolling Jim Beam as he weaved the truck in cool jerks and hot curses, the radio blaring old Charlie Parker. Marshall saw the fleeting face against the window - only for a second - and he would later wonder if it were fear or pain that rimmed the hollowed dark white eye that caught his. Out the back window, over his shoulder, Marshall watched long pieces of tattered plastic fly and float and drift lazily to the ground as they zoomed away, the shape vanishing, swallowed whole by the trees along the berm. Later Marshall would swear it was black feathers, not plastic he saw.