Thursday, The 13th
Noon
THE COUNTY ROAD WAS EMPTY AND BUMPY, AND THE FARTHER and farther Scott drove, the less sure he was that he was headed in the right direction. It wasn’t until a mile later that he caught sight of the gray, metallic body of the single cab pickup. It was sitting proudly out by the road, slightly in the background of the neatly kept mailbox with a handmade wooden profile of a well-known cartoon dog dozing on top. The car stepped cautiously off of the raised road onto the slightly lower drive, the driver creeping up the path and feeling severely out of place driving an ugly, modern machine onto the property which had a pristine, taken-care-of look to it all. There was no overgrown lawn with abandoned farm equipment littering it and providing cover for all manners of
