The road along the river was empty when Daniel slowed the truck. Headlights washed across the grass between the pavement and the water. Something stood there that had not been there on the way into town. Taller than the cab of the truck, and wider through the shoulders than any man. The skin was pale and smooth, catching the light the way wet rubber would. There was nothing above the shoulders, no neck, no head.
The eyes sat low, two dull points set into the upper chest, and they did not move when the light hit them. Daniel stopped. The engine idled, the figure did not step back or turn. A low whistle rose from somewhere near the riverbank, thin and steady, without any break for breath. He rolled the window down an inch. The sound stayed the same. The eyes stayed fixed on the truck.
He put the truck in park and opened the door. The grass under his boots was already flattened in a wide circle. The figure took one step forward. The movement was slow. The arms hung straight. When it moved, the pale skin shifted across the chest and the eyes tilted with it. Daniel raised the flashlight. The beam showed a dark line running down the center of the torso, wet and open.
Blood had soaked into the grass at its feet and still ran. The whistle continued. Daniel backed toward the open door. The figure took another step. One long arm lifted, the hand was broad, the fingers thick and few. It closed around the top of the door frame and bent the metal. The truck rocked. Daniel climbed inside and pulled the door shut. The arm stayed where it was.
The metal creaked. Through the glass he watched the eyes lower until they were level with the window. The mouth, if it was a mouth, opened across the upper chest. Teeth showed, small and close together, the whistle stopped. The hand pulled. The frame tore free of the truck, glass broke. Daniel slid across the seat and out the passenger side. He hit the ground and ran for the river.
The water was cold when he reached it. He waded in until it reached his chest. Behind him the grass moved. The pale shape followed to the edge of the bank, and stopped. The eyes stayed on him. The whistle started again, lower now, and carried across the water. Daniel kept moving until the current took his feet. When he looked back the shape was still there, standing where the road met the grass, the light from the truck headlights washing over the empty space above its shoulders. The blood on the bank had not stopped.
