"Come on, Jake," a girl raced in a cornfield. Her half-naked breasts bounce as she leads a boy through a field of corn barefoot, her hands clutching his. Jake pounced on her, landing softly against the dirt as they chuckled playfully.

The outstretched hand pulled from the ground, the bone cracked with thick grass and webs of dirt, like a tree whose branches were suffocating them. Comprehensive, crusted dirt covers the cornfield like a blanket of death, and the stalks are no longer plump but starved.

The cornstalks were tall and dry, the corn dry and dead on the yellow plants, and the dirt crumbled and dry as if the rain hadn't fallen in years. On the opposite end of the cornfield in the middle of New Jersey, the slight breeze carried the scent of burning firewood from a burning fire.

The charred remnants of life gone by, the cornstalks fallen and burnt. Garden truck, a deep crater in the background. The boy's outstretched hand pulled from the dirt, with horns protruding from his thick, crusted dirt, covers the cornfield like a blanket of death, and the stalks, no longer plump but starved. Bones jut from the ground, the skull and eyes emerge from the ground, eye sockets black and empty.

High about the cornfield, the devil's circle carved into the field, youngish dark eyes gleamed in the moonlight, hovered in the air with dark wings like those of a bat fluttering. Lightning struck the soiled Earth nearby, and Jake and the young girl raced for their lives.

The demon boy's tanned skin was warm and sticky like someone had left a pie out in the rain. His muscles were toned, and his biceps bulged. The demon-like boy's horns peeled from the flesh, blood dripping from his skull, but the gaping holes knitted together. You blink, miss it, and its wings fade into his muscled back.

The demon's six-foot-tall form hovered over the shoulder of an off-duty officer, staring him down. The boy's head swayed back and forth, and his eyes shifted color, turning from coal black to deep brown, and fluttered shut. He hid in the corn, but every time the cop light flashed over the stalks, the boy's eyes would glow bright auburn.

A beagle searched the crops for the animal's trail, sniffing the ground for a scent. The man lit a cigarette, and a haze of smoke floated around the moonlit field, swooshing of wings, dark and ominous like a flock of blackbirds circling.

The beagle's fur was slick with sweat, and the man's jacket was worn and frayed. The dog's paws slosh through the muddy ground, leaves, and damp soil stuck to its paws. The man's boots were wet and muck.

Jack's jacket was old and tattered, and his jeans were worn out at the knees and butt, with a faded look to them like they had been worn for ten years straight. His hands were rough and calloused like he had been working in the fields all day, not a buttoned-down office worker. The man's hand, sweaty and clammy, held an old double barrel, the blue steel worn and the wood handle chipped.

The officer's shirt clung as it beaded on his back and his face with sweat. His cold hand wrapped around the smooth wooden knob of a.45 calibers.

The beagle sniffed around and found the boy naked, lying in the center of the dead crops. Bruce's tongue slapped along my smooth skin until my eyes fluttered open again. The demon glided his palm against the pup's soft fur, feeling the softness, and Jack's flashlight panned over to his naked body. The boy shielded the light from his eyes, staring at the man, his lower waist littered with dead crops.

"Who are you, kid? Where are your parents?" The man asked the boy? The boy's eyes vibrated under the harsh light flashing across his face as he lowered his arm.

"William... William James Morningstar. Who are you?" the demon replied, pushing corn away from his torso. His brown eyes glowed in the light shining on his face.

"I'm Officer Jack Hart," the man took a subtle breath of cool air. "Let's get you out of the crops and somewhere safe." Jack's flashlight blinded the boy for a moment. The beagle sniffed around the boy's body and ran to Jack's scratched-up boots. He was a slim man dressed in his police uniform, his hat drawn over his brow, a golden badge strung to his belt, and a gun resting near his hip.

The flashlight's beam shot up the field wall, and he followed it, smirking at the boy's trembling body before repeating the gesture and walking over to William James Morningstar's naked body. The boy's light skin glistened like a jewel, wet with water and ash, the flashlight flashing on his pearly pink nipples and sparkling on his glistening sweat. A halo of soft brown curls circled his hairless pubis, and a bead of cold water rolled down his slender calf, disappearing over his bare heel. Jack wandered over to William, searching his body for cuts and scrapes before helping him to his feet and dusting him off.

"Here, kid. Tie this around your waist." Jack surrendered his jean jacket. "You must be freezing out here. It's 10 degrees in the middle of winter." Jack puffed his cigarette again as William tied the jacket around his waist.

"Come with me, kid," Jack waved the boy along, and Williams' curiosity kicked into gear, and his stomach rumbled, thirsty for blood. He walked behind the mysterious man, curious to know more about him.

"What's your dog's name, Sir?" William asked, catching up with Jack in front of a beat-up white pickup truck. Jack's door screamed open, and he jumped into the car, throwing some tools into the back seat.

"His name is Bruce. The best damn dog I've ever had." Jack opened the door and spit to the floor, and the passenger door swung open. Bruce hopped in, and William slid in next to him. "What's your last name, William?" Jack rumbled the engine over and pulled from the field.

"My last name is Morningstar, and James is my middle name. My parents were divorced before I was born." Jack's eyes were bloodshot, watching William in the mirror as he drove.

"William James Morningstar, huh? That's a unique name... interesting. So, where do you live?" Jack asked politely, tapping his hand on the wheel. "He snores, by the way." Bruce's thick tail wagged back and forth, and he leaned between William and Jack. "He's a good boy, though." Jack rubbed Bruce's head as he turned on the ignition.

"Where are we going?" William asked. "Do I get to phone my parents?" The truck pulled backward from the driveway, flickering its lights as it rolled down the road.

"I'll let your parents know you're safe," Jack said. William's eyes widened, and he glanced out the window at the black ash surrounding them.

"So, where are we going?" William repeated as they stared into the cornfields. "I don't know, kid. I want to take you somewhere safe. Somewhere you can get comfortable and talk, OK?" Bruce whimpered.

"Clifton, New Jersey."

"Clifton, huh? Never heard of it." Jack exhaled smoke from his mouth.

"I've never left the town in my life."

"Okay," Jack smirked, "Welcome to Newmark. You're headed on your first road trip. We live in a big world, and I'm sure you haven't experienced much."