Surviving Gangsters Love

The Arizona desert stretched endlessly before us, a shimmering ribbon of highway cutting through red rock and scrub.

My best friend Emily and I were three days into our cross-country road trip, the initial excitement long gone, replaced by heat and boredom.

Then Emily pointed. "Are you seeing this?"

Far off the road, a figure stood, impossibly tall, waving.

I dismissed it, thinking of a stranded hiker, already slowing the car.

But Emily grabbed my arm, her face drained of color, eyes wide with a terror I' d never seen. "Don't get out of the car," she choked out. "Look at its legs."

They were too long, bent at a sickening, backward angle.

Then it moved, not walking, but scrambling with inhuman, insect-like speed, closing the distance in seconds.