Dad probably wouldn’t even get angry. He would just get that sorrowful look that said You’ve disappointed me again, Jack. Although compared to being kicked out of MIT, a dented fender would probably barely register. You could only get so deep into the fertilizer. Once you were in over your head, it really didn’t matter anymore, did it?

As soon as the thought entered my head, I felt my breath quicken. Nope. I did not have time for a panic attack. Not just now, thanks. Two deliveries to go, then I had the entire weekend to freak out. I automatically started the deep-breathing exercises that my aunt had taught me. One, out, two, out … At five, I felt myself begin to relax.

Now I had to deal with the small matter of the accident. It was a clear, sunny day, with the occasional fluffy cloud scudding across the sky. Typical early July weather for Taft County, Ohio. The last rain was just long ago enough that the dust was beginning to accumulate once again on the side of the road, ready to billow up with every passing vehicle.

The point, though, was that visibility was good. Granted, I’d taken the curve along Poller Road too fast as usual, but I still should have been able to see, uh, whatever it was I’d hit. I peered at the damage. There was blood on the bumper and some fur embedded in the shattered grillwork. A small bit of good news, relatively speaking—it had been an animal rather than a person. But a large animal. More deer-sized than jackrabbit, anyway.

I moved in for a closer look. The blood had a weird color—more orange than red. And the fur was long enough for a bear, but the wrong color for any bear I’d ever seen. I looked around quickly. An angry, injured bear would not be a good thing. Should I hole up in the cab?

I quickly ducked down and glanced under the delivery truck. This verified that there wasn’t a body jammed underneath, and allowed me to confirm that there wasn’t something on the other side of the vehicle, waiting to gore me.

I reached into the truck and turned off the ignition. No point in gassing up the whole outdoors while I searched.

The blood—if it was blood—formed a slight trail heading off into the grass on the side of the road. And I could see a flattened patch. Maybe the animal had landed there and bounced?

The patch of grass looked pretty thoroughly stomped, and hadn’t yet begun to spring back. It must have been a hell of an impact. Or a very large animal. But where was it? I moved to check farther into the brush—and tripped over something.