Once the Cadillac sped off, Kyle had considered hanging by the road. If the Arrival corporation could miss one person hiding a self-driving car, maybe it had missed others. Maybe another nonautonomous vehicle, with a real live human being behind the wheel, would show up. He could flag them down, ask them for a lift. Didn’t matter where to. A house, a store, anyplace with water. Out of a tap, from a bottle, didn’t much matter.

But what he soon heard was not a conventional car, but the electric whine of an Arrival. Kyle ran into the woods as a blue one zipped past, followed closely by a green one. The little bastards were still out there, hunting their prey.

Then something funny happened.

Watching from behind a tree, keeping himself well hidden, he saw a lone, yellow Arrival approaching. As it got closer, it decelerated. Finally, it came to a halt. Just stopped in the middle of the road.

And sat there.

Kyle watched it for a couple of minutes before deciding to get its attention.

“Hey, asshole! Come and get me!”

The car did not respond in any way.

A pink Arrival came into view, came to a stop alongside the yellow one, as if checking on a fallen comrade. After thirty seconds, it moved on.

“Huh,” Kyle said.

Now that he knew Arrivals were still patrolling, he decided cutting through the woods to get back to civilization was the better plan. He hadn’t gone very far when he heard something encouraging.

Running water.

He stopped and listened carefully to determine which direction the sound was coming from. Go left, he thought. The woods gave way to a creek, no more than five feet wide, barely a foot deep, but Kyle didn’t need the Mississippi. All he had to do was descend a muddy, leaf-covered embankment—no more than ten feet—to reach it.

He was about to inch his way down the slope when he heard a sudden rustling in the leaves behind him. He spun around, caught a glimpse of something brown and tall and huge that was moving quickly only a step or two away from him.

How the fuck did a car get into the—

Kyle screamed, lost his balance, and tumbled down the hill.

He slid headfirst through the leaves and mud to the edge of the creek. He came to a stop inches from the water, his hands and face and clothes streaked with filth from the forest floor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he said.

He raised himself up on his two hands and turned to confirm that what had startled him was not a car, but a deer, working its way through the forest with more grace than Kyle had exhibited when he’d plunged to the creek’s edge. It took a few laps from the creek with its tongue, then wandered back up the hill, disappearing between the trees.

“Asshole!” Kyle shouted at the animal.