For twenty-three years, I drove the highways most people barely noticed. I knew the forgotten exits, the empty stretches of pavement, and the lonely shoulders where a broken-down vehicle could sit for hours without anyone stopping. I had seen accidents, stranded families, animals, and more than a few things I preferred not to remember. But nothing prepared me for what I saw that Thursday evening in September. At first, the shape near the road looked like discarded equipment. Then I noticed an arm. I slammed on the brakes and jumped from my truck. A young woman was lying in the dirt, barely conscious. And wrapped tightly around her chest was a massive snake. I should have waited for emergency responders. I knew that. But then she opened her eyes and looked straight at me.
PART 1 — THE THING ON THE SHOULDER
The highway was almost completely empty.
The sun was dropping behind the trees, turning the road ahead a dull orange.
