He pulled over onto the shoulder and into the tall grass. Traction was better on the asphalt, but he’d seen one too many videos where a car had been totaled by a passing semi. He cut the engine off, but let his hazards keep up the staccato rhythm. They shouldn’t drain the battery to bad. The last radio station he picked up clearly that still spoke in a language he could understand said that the storms should pass by quickly. Before he turned off the wipers he looked out at the vast plain of green that surrounded him on three sides as far as he could see. There were no fences, animals, buildings, nothing but grass.

For a boy that had grown up in big cities all over the world it was more than a bit disturbing. He expected Rod Serling to step out any minute. When that didn’t happen he made the sacrifice allowing wiper noise and engine hum to surrender to the drumming. The weariness of driving non stop for better tan twelve hours quickly caught up with Alex and he slept.

How long that sleep lasted he wasn’t sure. When he awoke with a jolt it was pitch black and completely silent. A sudden attack of claustrophobia overcame him and he felt around like a blind man, frantically trying to get out of his tomb. His right hand hit the door latch, letting in cool night air. Gradually the darkness was replaced with the dim light of stars as his eyes adjusted. He spent several minutes just breathing deeply and trying to get his heart rate down. It was then he realized that the dome light in his car hadn’t come on.

Keeping his cool he swiveled back to driving position and tried the key. The engine didn’t even try to turn over. He slapped the wheel lightly. “Well isn’t that just a peach.” A quick check of his cell showed no signal, so no AAA would be forthcoming. The idea of sleep seemed as distant as the next gas station. Judging by the time on his phone’s display, he’d been out for at least six hours. He’d never been one to sit still. “Looks like I’ll be taking a little walk.”

He checked the glove box retrieving the thirty-eight he kept there. Dad had insisted that he buy it and learn to use it after the first time he was mugged. Alex never carried it in the city. That was just asking for trouble. But he surprised himself and his instructor at the shooting range. He was pretty good and with practice managed to win a few amateur competitions.

Bringing it on this trip had been a largely unconscious decision. Now he was glad he did. Its speed draw rig went on his left hip and three speed loaders went into his fanny pack. A couple of water bottles and energy bars from the little cooler behind his seat joined them. It could be hours before he was picked up or found a house. Be Prepared echoed from his distant boyhood memories bringing with it a smile.

He cut out from the driver’s side walking perpendicular to his derelict. He hadn’t pulled off that far, but he couldn’t see the road given the dark and the waist high grass. That stopped him. “The grass wasn’t nearly this tall.” He shook his head. “I’ll go fifty more steps.” They counted off slowly, in an effort to stay on a true course. When no road met his eyes or steps he stopped. “Okay, I know I wasn’t that far off the road.”

He turned and saw that the grass had closed behind him. For a minute he panicked because he couldn’t see his car. Then a glint snared his eye. In a moment the cool metal of his Honda lay under his hand. Feeling more than a little silly he climbed onto the trunk. “Nothing. Not a blessed thing.” Dancing in the evening breeze were millions of blades and no blacktop to be seen. He held on to the hope that the dim starlight limited his vision. In a few hours it would be morning and that would tell him for sure.