He jumped down from the truck, careful not to get caught in the twine and pouches. Hunching down on one knee, he unrolled the plastic bundle, revealing a heavy-duty tire change kit. Stumpy metal legs protruded from the bottom of the jack and a robust metal knob with an eye-hook emanated from the middle. A tire iron with a square hole in the middle lay next to the jack, two metal rods next to it. One of the rods featured a hook which attached to the jack opening. He attached the two rods together and put the square end into the tire iron receptacle, careful not to make noise. The last thing he needed was clanking metal. Night sounds seethed and receded around him, a bevy of crickets changing to frogs from Twenty Mile Bog, and then to the flapping wings of night birds over the southern valley.

Not too many days left for that, he thought.

An owl hooted from the north, reminding him he was not alone.

Oh you know you’re not alone, Matthew, the little voice said. The Puller is watching you. But who is watching the Puller?

Maybe the owl, he thought.

The owl watches everything, doesn’t it? the little voice asked.

Matt took the gear to the side of the truck that faced away from the shack. Then he examined the spot where the corner of the truck roof met the ground. He sighed when he realized it was right where the land dipped into the bowl. He’d have to stand on the slope in order for this to work, and he needed to find a suitable spot for the jack, someplace that would give him leverage. Placing the jack under the truck cap he and his father installed might cause the cap to rip off. There’s no way it would hold the weight. The best bet was where the driver’s-side door met the roof. Matt placed the jack and rods on the grassy slope and retrieved the shovel from the wheelbarrow. Then he dug at the ground underneath the driver’s-side window, enough to allow space for the jack base to slide in. Once in place, Matt thumbed the jack receptacle, raising the telescoping arm so the playing card-sized piece of metal braced against the door and roof frame. He inserted the rod hook into the jack receptacle and twisted the tire iron. The jack rose and the truck groaned. Matt paused and listened for the Being, then gave it a few more twists. At last the jack base found solid footing, and the truck slowly moved up a quarter inch.

Holy cow it’s working, he thought.

Darn right it’s working, the little voice said. It’s a tire jack. What did you think it would do?