The way the moonlight shines across the interstate and illuminates the sky, Blake couldn't help but stare up at the stars for a moment. Taking it all in, she lets out a small chuckle as a smile breaks the seal of her mouth, forgetting, just for a second, about the stress and worries in her life. You can hear the wind as it passes through the slightly cracked windows.

Finally crossing the Missouri state line, Blake takes the next exit to refill on gas and food. Alex, passed out in the front seat, slowly opens his eyes, the truck rolling over loose gravel woke him from his late night nap.

"Where are we?" Alex asks while stretching his arms above his head and letting out a contagious yawn.

"We're almost there honey," Blake responds. "Just another hour or so and we should be at Aunt Linda's."

The passing street lights burn his eyes. Alex squints as he looks for a familiar structure outside the vehicle. His eyes catch the gas pumps lining the cracked pavement as his pupils start to adjust to the light. Green and red neon LEDS flashing sporadically every few seconds on the towering sign above the gas station. The open sign still on, a questionable welcome to those looking for a place to stop. Alex lays his head down on the headrest and drifts back to sleep.

Blake parks the truck in the first row of gas pumps, opens the door and steps down. She hates using her card at the pumps because they usually don't scan.

Swipe. Just as she predicted, the card wouldn't work. Rubbing her hands together in an attempt to keep them warm from the brisk night air.

Swipe again. Rolling her eyes, Blake walks inside the 24 hour gas station frustrated and tells the clerk to put fifty dollars on pump two. The young twenty-something year old woman behind the counter has a dark mole above her upper lip. Her name tag on the left pocket, "Maranda" written in silver permanent marker, a small heart drawn at the end. She swipes the debit card and throws a smile in Blake's direction, handing her back the card.

"Have a great night," Maranda says.

"Thanks, you too ma'am" Blake responds with a simper.

Wet floor signs scattered around the slick tile floor, and a middle aged man with a mop in the corner. Blake hurriedly saunters back to the truck and starts pumping gas, flipping the handle down until it clicks so she can sit inside the truck and stay warm. She climbs into the truck, grasping the "Oh Shit" handle as her husband Nate always called it. Alex's book lays in the floorboard by his feet. Blake leans over to pick it up, stretching her arm as far as she can without waking him up. She glances up to get a view of the book and notices a yellow jacket stuffed underneath Alex's seat. Just as she goes to grab it, the fuel pump clicks and the flow of gas stops.

"Done already? That was fast," she mumbles to herself, stepping out of the truck.

The handle is colder than before, like placing your hand on a frozen glass. Blake grabs it, shaking from the frigid air, and places it back on the stand. The temperature must be below freezing. She zips up her black and grey jacket, her head huddled inside the neckline, she looks across the parking and notices a blacked out SUV with its headlights on.

"Is that the same car my son was talking about?" Blake wonders.

Above the driver's side door, she notices a white sticker. Just as she kneels down enough to see over the hood of the truck, the SUV turns off its lights. The windows are too dark to see who's inside, even with the overhead lights from the gas station. Blake slowly climbs into the white truck and rolls up the windows. Placing the key into the ignition, she doesn't take her eyes off the SUV.

A muffled screech echoes through the lot. The key turning in the ignition. Nothing. She tries again to start the vehicle. Another muffled screech pierces the depths of her soul as her heart begins to race. Her head laying on the steering wheel, hands resting at the twelve o'clock position.

"Please start, please start, please..." she begs to herself as tears begin to form in her eyes.

Turning the key one last time.

The truck starts.

Blake, wiping the tears from her eyes, puts it in reverse and starts to drive off, kicking up loose rocks from the parking lot. The street is empty, looking back in the rear view mirror, she sees the SUV's headlights come back on as it starts to roll forward. Panic sets in.

"Who the hell is that?" she says to herself.

"Who's who?" Alex asks from the passenger seat, looking around to see if he can find the people his mother is talking about.

"I don't see anyone," he says.

"That SUV you saw the other day, did it have a white sticker on the side?" Blake asks, panicked.

"Yeah, I think so. Why? What's going on?" Alex responds.

"I saw them, well it, in the parking lot of that gas station back there," she says.

"WHAT? Are you sure? Did you see anyone? What happened?" Alex starts to freak out. Hairs standing up on the back of his neck, looking around for the black SUV.

You can hear the engine revving, tires rolling across the gelid asphalt. The suspicious black vehicle is catching up to the McDolen's as Blake starts to fumble for her cellphone.

"Hurry Mom! They're catching up," Alex cries.

"I'm trying sweetie, I'm really trying. I don't know what's going on," Blake replies with red, swollen cheeks.

The SUV is rolling up beside the truck. Blake has the pedal pushed to the floor, but it doesn't seem to do any good. The black SUV strolls up to the passenger side door. Blake's heart is racing, her palms are sweating. She wipes them against the steering wheel, not sure if the beads rolling down her face are tears or sweat, maybe both.

The blacked out SUV keeps driving, past the moving truck and down the road. Disappearing into the cover of darkness.

Blake calms down, laughing for a moment is her only reaction.

"Turn right in half a mile," the smooth robotic voice from the GPS says. Breaking the tension from the events that just unfolded.

Not expecting to hear a voice, Blake jumps, quickly calming herself down to regain composure.

"What the hell just happened?" she asks aloud.

"Maybe that wasn't the same SUV. I mean, what are the odds of that same car showing up hundreds of miles away at the same gas station Mom?" Alex responds with an inspirit tone.

Checking the GPS, the arrival time, 2:18am. Blake picks up the phone from the center console and starts dialing.

"Hello?" says a dampened, tired female voice on the other end of the line.

It's the voice of safety. The voice of Aunt Linda.