The sun is setting; through the dense forest bordering the winding two-lane highway the sky is a complicated swirl of fading oranges, reds, purples. You press the accelerator down, knowing that you are already running several hours behind on your way to meet your friends for a long weekend of fun, booze, drug abuse, premarital sex, and general negligence of responsibility at beautiful Lake Doomhole.
As you round 85 miles per hour, the last vestiges of the radio station you’ve been listening to break definitively into white noise. You’ve passed out of range of civilization, it seems. The only signal for your radio to pick up is the popping, clicking, whistling background radiation of earth and the universe in general. You reflect that some of the noise you are hearing is leftover radiation from the Big Bang itself (if physicists are to be believed); you are hearing the creation of everything, right here in your car. You wonder, if you listen hard enough, if you can hear the voice of God himself.
You are about to put in a Rob Zombie CD when you do actually hear a voice. It sounds unnatural, intriguing. You turn up the volume, listen hard. The voice is not chanting in English. Whatever the language is, it sounds evil.
Then it says your name.
shit!” You hit the brakes and your car
screeches to a sudden halt. The voice
continues, chanting. Your finger hovers
over the radio console.