There were two events that Lincoln had been looking forward to in The Great War: The entry of the United States into the war in April 1917 and the October Revolution in Russia. He wanted to hear about the former because go, team, and the latter because he wanted to see if Lenin was as big a piece of shit as Pop-Pop said he was. Lincoln didn't know much about Russia or communism but he was willing to learn. He had listened to podcasts about communism and the Soviet Union before and so far he had learned that communism was cool on paper but a literal hell every time it was implemented. He had always heard that the Soviet Union was okay - not great, but not terrible - until Stalin took over, but Pop-Pop said Lenin was almost as bad.

At 4:30 that afternoon, he finally reached the episode about the Russian Revolution. Thus far, Lenin hadn't really done all that much, but the Red Guards had executed a bunch of people. To be fair, those people were fighting against them. That's not to say it was right per se, but pretty much any country would execute you for taking up arms against it. It didn't matter if you were "right", you were playing a dangerous game, and the rules state that if you lose, you get necked.

The Bolsheviks were assholes, but so were a bunch of other people in the war. War will do that to you, Lincoln supposed, but still, no one was exactly angelic.

Though he was interested in what he was listening to, Lincoln was nervous and on edge. He kept looking over his shoulder to peer through the back window. Each time, he expected the truck to be there, but it never was, and he didn't know if he should be thankful for that or not. At least when he could see it, he knew where it was. Right now, it could be anywhere.

His mind kept drifting and he would have to rewind the video a couple times to process what he was hearing. Finally, he got tired of that and put his phone away. The October Revolution wasn't that interesting anyway, and barely any Americans were in Europe. The ones that were there were untrained and kept getting their asses kicked by the Germans. Aside from a few epic Ws from the French and British, the Germans were doing the best out of anyone.

Something prodded his side. "Wanna play eye spy?" Lucy asked.

They were current;y on the same stretch of blacktop they had been earlier. The mountains on either side of the highway had receded into the far distance and more and more grass carperted the cracked desert floor. Occasionally, they passed isolated farms, tiny villages, and roadside attractions. Weathered telephone poles, all splintered and gray from years of extreme heat and sun exposure, marched along the dusty shoulder like an army on its way to die at Flanders. Lincoln didn't know where they were but they had been in Arizona for what seemed like an eternity. They had to be in California soon. He didn't know if they would stop for the night and continue onto L.A. tomorrow or if Dad planned to keep driving after dark. Probably the latter. They were so close, Dad likely figured, so why waste money on a motel room when they could be in the city before sunrise?

"Sure," Lincoln said. "You go first."

"Okay," Lucy said and looked around. "I spy, with my little eye, something...brown."

"The grass?"

"Yes."

Now it was Lincoln's turn.

"I spy, with my little eye, something…" he, too, looked around. When he played this game, he liked to really stump his opponent, so he usually picked out the most obscure thing he could. His eyes went to the back of Lana's head. She wore her hat backwards like a cool kid from the 90s, and in the center of the bill was a random and tiny blue square. Because Lana was a filthy pig, the hat was so dirty that the blue blended in with the red, making it fairly hard to pick out. "Blue," he said.

Lucy opened her mouth, but closed it and pursed her lips contemplatively. "The sky?"

"No."

"Lori's shirt?"

"No."

She hummed.

"Give up?"

"Not yet. Give me a minute."

She rattled off a list of possible answers, and he rejected each one in turn. Finally, she let out a sigh of defeat. "What is it?" she asked.

He told her, and she sighed again. "That's almost not fair."

"It's right in front of your face, Luce," Lincoln said.

It was her turn again.

"I spy, with my little eye, something…" she looked left and right, then twisted around to look through the back window.

She stiffened.

Lincoln followed her line of sight and he, too, went rigid.

The truck was behind them again, roughly five hundred feet and closing fast. The windshield glinted in the harsh desert sun like an evil eye and the cattle guard grill seemed to widen in a cannibalistic smile. Lincoln's lungs deflated with a soft whooshing sound and his mouth fell open in a shocked O.

As if realizing it had an audience, the truck surged forward, its engine emitting an ominous rumble. It quickly closed the distance, getting bigger and bigger until it blotted out the world. Just as Lucy screamed, it slammed into the back of the van. The van jolted forward and everyone was thrown against their seatbelts. Screams and cries of terror filled the cab and Lynn somehow wound up wedged between her seat and Mom's. Dad gripped the wheel tightly and swerve left and right to keep from going off the road. The truck fell back a little and then slammed into Vanzilla again. "Go around!" Dad cried. "Go around!"

The truck swung into the other lane and raced up beside the van. The driver wrenched the wheel to the right and the truck's front end collided with the side of the van. Dad lost control and the van spun around like an ice skater. Lincoln was thrown into Lucy and Lynn tumbled against the side door, standing almost straight up on her head. The truck roared by, gave a sharp honk, and kept going, disappearing around a bend. The van sideswiped a cactus, rocked sickeningly on its wheels like it was going to tip, and settled in a cloud of dust. Everyone coughed, groaned, and sat up straight, looking dazed and scared. Lily screamed in her car seat and Lola and Lola hugged each other and sobbed. Dad caught his breath and turned in his seat. "Is everyone alright?" he asked.

"I think I tore my ACLU," Lynn groaned.

"Where's my phone?" Lori gasped. "WHERE'S MY PHONE?"

Lily screamed and kicked, her head tossing from side to side. Mom undid her seatbelt, got out, and opened the side door. She reached in, took Lily out of her car seat, and rocked her. Dad tried to start the van, but the engine sputtered and coughed, refusing to turn over. A look of panic came over his features and he tried again but to no avail. "We're stranded," he said, sounding afraid.

Everyone got out and spread out. Ahead, the road bent sharply to the right around a rock-face. The guardrail curved with it, and beyond, the land sloped down to open desert that stretched into the horizon, where a mountain range stood against the piercing blue sky. A dry, furnace wind blew over him and whipped his cowlick from side to side. He listened for the telltale sputter of the truck's engine, but the day was silent.

After his latest hit and run, the demon was gone.

"I don't have any service," Lori said and tapped her phone.

"Me either," Mom said.

Dad walked up and took out his phone. "I'm out too," he said. "Stupid value family plan. I should have opted for the premium one." He sighed and slumped his shoulders.

"What do we do?" Lynn asked.

Putting his hands on his hips, Dad drew a heavy sigh and let it out in a rush. The harsh sunlight deepend the lines on his face he he looked ten years older than he really was. "I'm gonna have to go for help."

"Oh, Lynn, we can't stay here," Mom said and bounced Lily. "It's too hot."

"It's even hotter on the road," Dad said.

"We're coming with you," Mom said in a tone that closed the matter.

Before setting out, Lynn, Lincoln. Luna, and Lana filled backpacks with snacks, water, and other essential things and slipped them on. Lynn took the emergency road kit Dad kept under the back seat and Lincoln brought Lily's baby bag. They walked down the middle of the road in a big group, Dad in the lead and Lola bringing up the rear; bent at the waist like a wilted flower, she sweat profusely and dragged her feet. The hem of her dress dragged in the dust and the soles of her shoes scraped on the pavement. Lincoln looked left, right, front, and back in search of the demon. He didn't see him, but he fully expected him to make an appearance. This was part of his plan: Get them on foot and out of the van, then pick them off one by one like the killer in a bad slasher movie. Why else would he drive off instead of finishing the job? That's not what he wanted; he wanted to lure them out.

And he got it.

He told Lucy his theory and she stroked her chin. "If i was a monster, I'd do the same thing."

That was comforting.

Not.

Lynn, who had appeared on Lincoln's other side like a spirit materializing from the ether, slapped his back and made him stumble. The backpack absorbed most of the blow but he still almost fell to his knees like Tommy Lee at his dealer's house. "Don't worry, Linc," she said proudly, "if that creep comes back, i got a little surprise for him." She lifted her jersey and Lincoln blinked.

There was a gun shoved into the waistband of her shorts.

Only the handle was orange and plastic.

Lincoln looked at her crazy and she grinned. She took it out and held it up.

It was a flare gun.

She must have gotten it from the roadside emergency kit.

"I have one in the chamber and five in my pocket. If he tries anything I'll melt his stupid, ugly face off."

"I don't know if that'll work," Lincoln said.

Lynn arched her brow. "Why not?"

He almost said because he's not human, but stopped himself. He already knew Lynn wouldn't take him seriously. She'd roll her eyes, call him a baby, and maybe hit him. "I hope it works," he said.

"Of course it'll work," Lynn said, "I'm the best shot in Royal Woods." She squinted her eye, plastered her tongue to her upper lip, and pointed the flare gun at Lincoln. His heart jolted into his chest and he jumped nearly out of his skin.

Lynn cackled mean-spirited laughter and shoved the gun back into her shorts. "I'm not gonna shoot ya," she said. "Unless you crack jokes about my breath again. Then I'll jam this thing up your butt and use you as a silencer."

"Wicked," Lucy said appreciatively.

No! Not wicked at all!

The sun beat down on Lincoln's shoulders and cooked his pasty skin. Lola kept falling behind and finally collapsed to her knees. Lincoln and Lynn went back for her while the other paused to rest. Lincoln whipped out a canteen and made her drink while Lynn just stood there with her arms crossed and criticized her for being so weak. "This is intolerable," Lola said, coughing on water. "Are we almost there?"

Almost where? They were a hundred miles from nowhere in the middle of the vast desert Southwest. They had been walking down the middle of the highway for nearly an hour in the hopes that someone would come along and stop, but so far they had encountered no one. The only sign of life they had seen was the white trail of a plane waaay in the distance. In that hour, the terrain had hardly changed. To their right, the land was flat and covered in tall grass, and to their left was open desert composed of rock, cacti, and thistle with mountains in the distance. Lincoln's feet ached and his shoulders were starting to hurt from carrying the backpack; everyone was hot, tired, and sweating, and there didn't seem to be any trace of civilization within a thousand mile radius. There was no "there."

He and Lynn helped Lola to her feet and carried her between then like two British soldiers sprinting a comrade away under German bombardment. Dad took a drink from his canteen, swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, and sighed. "Let's go," he said.

Ugh, this was literally worse than the Baatan Death March.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Dad called out from the head of the pack. "Look!"

Lincoln lifted his head. Ahead and to the right, a rusted wrought iron arch straddled the head of a dirt road lined on one side with tumble down cattle fencing. The driveway led to a wide patch of dust surrounded by tufts of sparse brown grass. A house stood in the middle of the clearing, a barn to one side and a series of outbuildings on the other. The house was two stories with a corrugated metal roof spackled with rust. The clapboard siding was black and rotten, the porch sagging. Trash and discarded auto parts littered the yard, bleaching in the sun like old bones. Lincoln walked up next to his father and looked up at the arch.

WENDIGO RANCH.

A shiver dropped down Lincoln's spine.

"It looks abandoned," Mom said.

"We might as well make camp here for the night," Dad said. He twisted around and looked up at the sun, which had lowered toward the horizon. The light was weaker than it had been earlier, and shadows grew long over the ground. "In the morning, I'll hike out and look for help."

The thought of camping here, in the wilderness, while that madman in the truck was around, made Lincoln's stomach churn. He tried to say so, but Dad waved him off. What choice did they realistically have, though? They were in the middle of Bum Frick Egypt and it was going to be night soon.

Reluctantly, Lincoln followed his family up the driveway, shooting worried looks over his shoulder and hoping against hope that someone would come along to rescue them.

That didn't happen.

Everyone gathered around the foot of the stairs in a big group, their faces uniformly red and sweaty. "Stay here while I have a look around," Dad said. He carefully climbed the steps, the rail wobbling in his hand. When he opened the door, it came loose from its hinges and hung askew in the frame, attached tgo the jamb by a single piece of metal.

While Dad went inside, everyone else sat down, Lori, Mom, and Leni on the steps and everyone else on the ground. Lincoln dropped his pack to the dirt and sank onto it with a sigh. Luna leaned back against the porch and drew her knees to her chest. Lynn stretched out, using her pack as a pillow, and crossed her legs. "I bet this place is haunted," Lucy said. "By wendigos no less. We're doomed."

"Stop talking like that," Mom snapped. There was more than a hint of fear in her voice. "We'll be fine. We'll stay the night and your father will find help in the morning."

Would he, though? Or would the demon tear them all apart in the night? Would they even live to see morning...or would they all be dead?

Lincoln's stomach gurgled and he wrapped his arms around his chest. "I don't like it here," he said.

"We'll be fine," Mom repeated and bounced Lily on her lap.

Shortly, Dad poked his head out and gave the all clear. Everyone got up and went inside, Lincoln in the rear.

The door opened onto a living room: A tattered couch faced an ancient cabinet model TV set and piles of broken boards, pieces of plaster, and other debris. A thick layer of dust coated everything and swirled through the hot air, disturbed by the Loud family's passage. The earthy smell of musk and decay found Lincoln's nose, and he sneezed. "It's hot as balls in here," Luna said.

"I'm going back outside," Lori said.

"I wonder if there's a fuse box in the basement," Dad said. "I doubt this place is wired for electricity but it's possible."

Lily randomly started to cry and Mom soothed her.

"When I'm done, I'll go out back and see about getting some firewood," Dad said with a glance at the stone hearth. "It's hot now but it'll be cold once the sun goes down."

"You do that," Mom said. "I'm going to change Lily and see what we have for food."

Lincoln followed his sisters outside, the breeze hot but refreshing after the stagnant air inside the house. Lori sat in a straight back chair on the porch, Leni sat at her feet like a loyal dog, legs crossed and derp written across her face, and Lana and Lola huddled in the shady alcove of a bush growing up along the front of the house. Luna and Luan both side on the steps wiith their faces in their hands in matching expressions of despair and Lisa paced around the front yard with her hands behind her back. Lincoln squeezed between Luna and Luan, stumbled down the stairs, and sat in the dirt. He laid his bag in his lap, unzipped it, and took out a stick of beef jerky. He ripped the wrapper off and took a bite.

The highway stood deserted and the only sound was the whisper of the soft rustle of the wind, but Lincoln had that skin-crawling feeling of being watched again.

He didn't know where the demon was, but he knew this.

It was nearby.

Lynn Loud Sr. leaned into the basement and tested the lightswitch.

Nothing happened.

He let out a deep sigh and wiped his forehead. There were no windows down there and the cellar was a pit of perfect blackness . He could see the first two steps, both withered and gray, but nothing beyond. He fished his phone out of his pocket and turned on the flashlight. He aimed the phone and shone the beam on the steps. He felt blindly for the rail, found it, and carefully navigated the stairs, gingerly testing each tread before putting his full weight on them. Less than half way down, the smell of mold and decomposing wood became overpowering and he had to pause and let his nose adjust to it. Unseen things thumped in the walls and Lynn worriedly wondered if bats had nested in the basement. Those things are full of rabies. If one of the kids got bitten, he'd never forgive himself.

Letting the cone of light flowing from his phone guide him, Lynn picked his way down the incline. The last step shattered beneath his foot and he pitched forward, a jagged sliver of wood tearing into his ankle. His heart lodged in his throat and he threw his hands up at the last second to break his fall. He hit the dirt floor and the phone flew from his hand, skidding away. His right wrist twisted painfully and a cry ripped from his throat. He rolled onto his side and hissed through clenched teeth; long tendrils of pain streaking up his arm and his wounded ankle throbbing hotly. He sat up and felt along his leg. The phone had landed right side up, blocking out the light, so he couldn't see, but he felt wetness. Damn it.

Lynn got to his feet and put weight on his ankle to see if it would support him.

It did.

So, it wasn't twisted. Thank God for small favors.

He set out in search of the phone, taking shuffling steps and doing his best to peer into the darkness; his eyes didn't adjust because there was nothing to adjust to. Even on the darkest of nights, there was always some form of light. Down here, in this cold, subterranean chamber beneath the desert, there was nothing.

His foot kicked something and he stopped and bent over. His fingertips quested across the cool dirt until they brushed against the phone. Ha, got'cha. He grabbed it and stood straight. He held the phone up and swept the space to get his barings. The walls were made of rough stone and a bench sat in one corner. A stack of rotting cardboard boxes flanked it to one side, and closer at hand, a mess of white rocks soaked in the dirt. Lynn furrowed his brow and took a step closer to get a better look, but recoiled when he realized what they were.

Bones.

A scream formed in his throat but deflated when he saw that they belonged to an animal and not a human.

Whew, for a second there he thought he stumbled across a murder scene.

Wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake? First he got his family hopelessly lost in the desert, then some crazy person ran them off the road, then not one single car passed when he needed one the most, then...then he walks into the middle of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Lynn didn't consider himself a lucky man (or an unlucky man, for that matter) but after today, he wouldn't be surprised if Count Dracula himself came out of the dirt. I vant to suck your blood!

Now, where was that fuse box?

He spun in a slow circle, shining the light this way and that. Wall. Furnuityure. Wall. Stairs.

Eyes.

Lynn froze.

A pair of yellow eyes with slitted black pupils stared out at him from between two stair treads. Lynn's heart blasted into his throat and a wheeze tore from his lungs.

Something big and black came out from beneath the stairs. At first, it was a dark, indiscernible mass, but then Lynn blinked and it was a man. Or something close. It towered over him, seven feet tall, maybe eight, and its face was the color of char. Two yellow eyes blazed like lanterns on the road to hell, and fangs crowded its yawning mouth. It wore a fedora and a long black trench coat over a tattered red sweater; bugs scurried over its barrel chest and black fluid seeped from its mouth. Lynn's eyes widened in terror and his scream came out as a breathless gargle. The monster took a step forward and raised an ax.

Coming alive, Lynn dropped the phone and the light went wild. Before he could run, the ax came down hard between his neck and his shoulder. Hot blood spurted from the wound and Lynn tried to scream but emitted a raspy gasp instead. The creature was suddenly on top of him, tearing at him with jagged claws. It raked its nails across his cheek, tearing his flesh; he tried to push it away but it threw him to the floor and mounted him. He threw out his arms to protect himself, but the monster batted them away and plunged its nails into his chest, twisting back and forth and relishing in his blood. Lynn pounded his fists against its chest and shoulders, but the fight was quickly draining out of him.

Panting obscenely now, the creature leaned in and sank its teeth into Lynn's soft throat. Lynn's eyes widened but there was nothing he could do. The monster's teeth tore into his neck and jammed its tongue into the hole. Blood shot out of Lynn's ruined neck red geysers and the mist of coming death fogged his brain.

He couldn't die.

Not yet.

He had to walk his little girls down the aisle and meet his grandkids. He had -

That thought cut off when the monster grabbed his head in both hands and ripped it off. Lynn felt a terrible sting, then he was flying across the room. He hit the wall and landed next to the phone, the world tilting on its side. Ears ringing, mouth gasping for air even though he had no lungs, Lynn watched in horror as the monster tore his body to pieces.

With that final vision burned onto his brain, Lynn Loud Sr. died.