The sun blazed hot and bright on the desert road. Steam rose from the cracked black top. Locals called it the devil's highway and it lived up to its name, it was hotter than hell. Hell spawn came in all shapes and sizes. Dean scraped the fire salamander from his boot.
He tugged his sweat drenched t-shirt over his head and tossed it through the impala's open window. He opened the beat up ice chest and scooped out the last, precious, crystal clear cube of ice. Perfect lips parted, ice cold liquid trickled down his parched throat quenching his thirst.