They could see blinding sunlight coming in through the windows, but the old pick-up truck had air conditioning, so it didn't much matter. The only sign of the sweltering heat was the rippling image of brushes and sand dunes off to the sides. It was Sarah's turn to drive. Her newlywed husband, Martin, was in the seat next to her, fumbling with the map.

"Turn right here," he said, gesturing vaguely.

"It's not like there's anywhere else I could go." The road went straight ahead towards the horizon. In the distance was a thick black line that was probably their turnoff.

Neither of them spoke until Sarah had driven past it, blatantly ignoring it.

"You missed it."

"Oops."

"We can make a u-turn."

"Nah, that's illegal. We can just go into town from the South instead of the North."

"What is with you today? That's the only turn. This road keeps going until it stops at a feedlot."

"There's got to be another way in."

"Sarah, are you okay?"

She frowned, but said nothing.

The sun sank slowly, filling the skies with blood red light. This decrease in light didn't stop until the sky was inky black, and Sarah had to turn on the headlights. Martin had packed the map back into the glove compartment and settled back to wait for Sarah to come to her senses.

Some thirty minutes later, Sarah squealed happily. She pulled the car over so that Martin could take a good, long look at the reflective green sign that read "StrexCorp, 10 Miles" and the little poster board sign beneath that said, "Feel Free to Use This Exit as a Shortcut".

"See, what did I tell you? I just knew there'd be another way in. Someone up there likes us, huh?"

"I guess." Martin didn't look at her.

"Yep, there's a god, alright," said Sarah as she turned onto the smaller side road. "I bet he's smiling down on us. Smiling. A Smiling God."

He turned to look at her, and saw a toothy smile plastered on her face. He quickly looked away. "So. I made sure the house we bought is in a good school district."

"I'm sure it doesn't matter. I hate children."

"Sarah, are you PMS-ing?"

"Don't ever ask a woman that, Marty," said Sarah, her smile looking very strained.

Marty. She never called him Marty. Come to think of it, no one did. He looked out the window at the orange moon that was rising above the desert now. There could be all sorts of horror movie creatures out there under that bloody moon...

There was something far off; two shimmering yellow lights coming from the opposite direction. But this was a one-lane road. "Sarah, get off the road."

Sarah said nothing. She pressed her foot down on the metal.

"Sarah? Sarah, get off the road! Sarah!" He leaned over to try and take the wheel, but his seatbelt held him back. He unbuckled it and leaned further. Sarah stomped on his foot and bit his fingers. The car had started to swerve, and still those two yellow lights were coming towards them.

There was a thud and a large crash. Sarah laughed happily as the engine failed. Two men emerged from the other car and inspected the scene with a flashlight.

The material damage was minimal – a few dents, a scratch. Except the windshield of the old pick-up truck had shattered, and a body was cradled between the two bumpers. Martin, who had unbuckled his seatbelt, who had flown through the window, was now a mess of bloody limbs. Sarah laughed even more, and the men helped her out of the truck.

"Are you Sarah, miss?" asked the man who wasn't tall.

"Yes. What a lovely place this is!" She laughed, and the men helped steady her.

"Where were you and your companion going?" asked the man who wasn't short.

"To our new lives in a new town," said Sarah, stifling giggles.

"Do you remember the name of the town?"

"Why, yes, it – " she paused. "Huh. The name has slipped my mind."

"Was it Desert Bluffs?"

She thought for a moment before nodding slowly. "Yes. Yes, that sounds right."

"Let's get a move on, then. Your house is ready. It's a shame your husband didn't make the trip."

She laughed again. "What husband?"

"You learn so quickly," said the man who wasn't tall. The three of them walked off, leaving the wreckage alone in the dark.