Without hesitating, he maneuvered off the truck and limped down the driveway. He walked five steps and waited.

Nothing.

He walked ten steps, expecting a pressure sensation. Nothing. He looked in every direction, expecting to see grass part or the treetops shake. None of these things happened.

When Matt reached the end of the driveway, he checked north and south along Julip Road before anything else. Maybe he’d spot a car, but that was unlikely since he’d hear one first.

Across the road from him sat the three water jugs, lush droplets beading on the clear plastic.

He licked his lips.

Although he was thirsty as hell, he didn’t trust being this far out, not at all. Way too close to where the dead deer was.

Yeah but you got a lot farther than that in the truck, Matthew, the little voice said.

True, he thought. But maybe that was because the truck was a protective covering, like a shell.

The water beckoned and he could smell it in the air. Matt took two steps forward, stopped, and took another. Water beads trickled down the plastic, matching the sweat on his face. He licked his lips again. Just a few more steps, he thought. He moved quietly across Julip road, testing each step with nightmare expectations. But none of the strange sensations hit him.

Finally he reached the jugs, twisted off a blue cap, and gulped. The fluid roiled in his stomach and he fought to keep it down. As his stomach settled, he noticed his strength improving. The forest took on greater clarity. The edges and colors of the leaves defined, no longer dull. He’d been dehydrated. Not good. If he was going to get out of this, he needed to do a better job of keeping healthy.

As he gulped more Black, he watched the birches and maples on either side of the road.

He was alone.

Julip road was empty, as it often was. The only real traffic that ever passed through was the occasional logging truck and a few out-doorsmen. But this wasn’t tourist season, and the chances of visitors lessened. Since today was Sunday, he doubted any logging trucks would be coming this way. He paused, his thoughts swirling, his belly distended from the water.

The occasional local hunter or fishermen might though, he thought. Sunday may not work for the logging trucks, but it might work for recreationists. His arms and legs tingled and his mind receded from the dark abyss.

The test, Matthew. Don’t forget the test, the little voice whispered.

Oh, he hadn’t.

No longer dehydrated, he examined the woods for solutions. As long as the creature wasn’t hurting him, the confidence might remain.

He had two choices to begin this test. The first was to approach the Black River. He had to know if he could access water. The other choice was to head south on Julip road, towards the Hurons.