“Look out, listeners. It’s a hazardous night out there. Not a good night to be out on the road. You may want to look for a place to pull over and park. Some of you may not have a choice.”

The car drifted and I eased it over to the emergency lane, which seemed like the wrong thing to call it. More like the Figure Shit Out For Yourself lane.

The tires crossed over the rumble strip, and the car rattled. The interior lights flickered on and off like a strobe. That prick DJ’s menacing laugh came in and out in a discontinuous staccato. I mashed the accelerator against the floorboard, but it was useless. The engine had shut off. There was nothing else for me to do but bring the rolling Camry to a stop. Chalky dust swirled in the soft glare of dim headlights.

“So, Kevin. You never told us. What is your request?”

I listened to Kevin’s cynical laugh, suggesting a hint of defiance. Maybe that was good. “Let me go?”

“Hmmm.” It came out like a purr, or the beginning of a growl. “No, that’s not on the set list tonight, I’m afraid. Let me rephrase my question. Do you have any last requests?”

Kevin’s next laugh was less defiant. And higher pitched. “Come on, man.”

The speakers fell silent. Then I heard some talking in the distance, too far from the mike to make out. More humorless laughter. Then Kevin: “Dude, seriously. What the fuck!?”

The screech of a chair, something banging sharply against a wood table. Kevin grunting in pain.

“Your final words, Kevin? Anything for our audience?”

It sounded like the mike was moved back to Kevin’s mouth. He was breathing hard and fast. “Fuck you, man.”

“Well, okay. Good thing the FCC isn’t monitoring this station, otherwise I don’t think that would have gotten through.”

Deep, sickening laughter. A man-size frog.

Kevin’s sudden scream rattled the car speakers. Even Caspian flinched in his sleep.

“No, no, no no no—” Kevin stopped talking and started groaning, an expression of pain that was almost like a plea. Then came a wet, gurgling sound. Like he was gargling something thick and viscous. I could hear a strange hissing noise, a leaking tire, then water splashed against a table.

No, not water.

A tearing sound, a knife through a chicken joint. Someone grunting off-mike, but getting closer. Breathing hard.

All the while the DJ chuckled. A portly man warming by a fire while petting a purring cat.

Something hard rattled as it rolled unevenly across wood.

“Ah, yes. We’re off to a good start here at The Midnight Hour. And we’re just getting warmed up. For our listeners out there on this special night, buckle up. Things are about to get bumpy. But don’t worry. Help is on the way.”

The lights cut off, casting the car in silent darkness.

Chapter Five