Mind readers. I don’t want anyone in my mind. It’s bad enough I have to be in there. If the aliens can read my thoughts, root out my compulsions, spy on my fears … I don’t stand a chance.

The engine sputters again. I press the pedal all the way to the floor, as if I can keep it going by sheer force of will. “We need to find some fuel right the hell now,” I say, my voice tight. I glance around, desperate for a gas station or another vehicle we can siphon fuel from. Anything that would keep me from getting stuck in the middle of this road, forced to walk unprotected through fog and Beings and maybe-telepathic aliens.

The engine dies.

Silence. It crackles all around us, static in the air, ringing in my ears.

I keep one hand on the steering wheel as the car coasts. With the other I reach down and snatch the starter wire, sparking it against the ignition and battery wires. The engine coughs for a few seconds. The radio turns on automatically again, and the chorus of “Stand by Me” plays at full volume.

The engine sputters back out. The music keeps going, fraying my nerves. I reach out a hand to smack the off button.

“Wait,” Elliott says suddenly before I can touch it. “That happened earlier, too, didn’t it? The music. It came on in the garage, when you first started the car.”

I nod, not seeing how music matters at all right now, white-knuckling the steering wheel as the car slows to sixty and then fifty.

Elliott is frowning at the dashboard. “This car doesn’t have a CD player or a tape deck, though,” he says. “Just the radio. But somehow …”

He turns the music off. Silence fills the car, louder than before, until Elliott presses the button again. “Stand by Me” continues.

No. Not “continues.” It starts up again—in exactly the same spot it did a moment ago, at the beginning of the chorus.

Elliott slides the little lever to switch through the FM stations. The chorus starts over and over again on each and every one.

I’m frozen at the wheel. “That’s … how are you doing that?”

Elliott shakes his head, still looking at the dial under his hand. “Callahan. The entire mainland is dead, empty. Covered in fog. There shouldn’t be anything on the radio.”

The second he says it, the song cuts out to static.

I turn my head slowly. I stare at him. The static is so loud, it’s making it hard to breathe.