Dawn had cracked the shell of the sky and was driving night underground for another day. Amy felt her malarial fever dissipate along with the darkness, leaving her with adrenaline strained veins filled with a sick, sluggish serum. The long inward battle was over and the moon no longer put any heart into its fight. It only pestered her, keeping its presence felt like a defeated opponent hurling insults and taunts as she deserted the field.

The world expanded beyond the borders of her skin to the boundaries of the rickety pickup truck and the wider world around them. They had driven for hours in silence.

The moon wasn't the only one she had picked a fight with last night.

They were just past Albuquerque, when Amy said, "Do we have to listen to this old man music?"

R.J.'s enthusiastic humming died abruptly on his lips. His mouth hung slightly agape as he looked at her. He recovered by turning to the empty road in front of them and saying in a teasing tone, "You're crazy. This is Tom Petty. It's great."

"Great for old men. Can't we listen to something good for a change?"

R.J. seemed to shrink a little at the rebuke. Still not looking at her, he said, "Fine, put on whatever you want."

Amy fiddled with the dial, until a familiar voice filled the truck. The singer was instantly recognizable but the she couldn't place the song. All those mornings running with Katie, Amy thought she had everyone of Taylor Swift's songs memorized. But here Tay-Tay was singing about bad blood and problems with her baby. The sentiments were all heard before but the words and the music were entirely new. Amy felt a slight thrill at catching this brand new release and she was imagining what she might say to Katie about it if through some miracle they met again. Then the DJ came on and called it last year's big hit.

"Last year?" Amy said. "Why haven't I heard this before?"

R.J. didn't answer. He seemed preoccupied with the dim lights of a semi up ahead in the distance.

"R.J.? Why don't I have this song on my playlist?" Her voice was strident to her own ears. Amy's emotions were out of sync with reality. The moon's influence was taking a toll on her psyche, but knowing that didn't stop her from feeling like missing out on this song was the absolute end of the world.

"Well..." R.J. ran two fingers over the strands of gray hair above his ear and scratched. "I didn't know you were such a fan."

"You know damn well that Katie is girl-crushing that woman something fierce. If she had a new album, Katie would have played it every day for six months. Why haven't I heard it?"

R.J. sighed and shook his head. "I guess you were bound to find out. The Agency didn't let us give you any new music. It was the same with your books and TV."

"But I got new stuff all the time. I got a stack of books at the beginning of the month. And just this week, they added Skyfall to my movie channel."

"You might not have seen it, but it isn't new."

"What? What the hell does that mean?"

"Nothing that you get was made after 2012. Someone at the Agency decided that if you saw the world moving on without you, it might make you agitated. So they dole out all the books, songs, and movies slowly so you'll always have a variety and not get bored, but so you wouldn't get anything that would...agitate you."

"Agitate me? Agitate me? You better believe I'm fucking agitated." Amy wanted to punch something. The idea of putting her fist through the side window and watching the glass crack and shred her knuckles was particularly appealing.

"Calm down. It wasn't me who decided it. I didn't even agree with it. But put it in perspective. It's not like missing out on a pop song actually hurt you in any way."

Amy was in a complete state of bewilderment. Had there been any moment in her life that wasn't filled with betrayal and deceit? Muscles rippled beneath her skin, filled with primordial fury. She tried to speak but it just came out as a sputter. Her teeth ground against each other. She was on a razor thin line between control and madness—teetering between human and beast.

One breath separated her from a violent rampage. One blink was all that was necessary to slip into the quiet, emotionless mind, where everything was simpler.

She closed her eyes and pressed her palms to them. She didn't want to kill R.J. He was the closest thing to family she had, even though with each mile they put between them and The Music Box, she was less sure of what that meant.

Amy settled for releasing her rage by kicking the glovebox and turning away from him with her arms crossed. Her own scowl reflected back at her, superimposed over the dark landscape.

The rest of the night had been a torment with the wolf so close to the surface. She could feel it clawing to get out. More than once she had the urge to fling the door open and dash out across the empty desert landscape.

Now that the sky was turning pale gray with a faint peach blush on the horizon, she was feeling more herself. The blinding fury was gone but the anger of being lied to lingered.

"It's getting light," R.J. said. The statement was bland and obvious but the softness in his voice suggested that he was testing the waters between them. "There's a town coming up in about ten miles, we'll stop there. How are you feeling?"

"Okay." Amy sounded miserable.

"Are you sure?"

"R.J., I'm not going to be able to do this again. I can't do it for another night."

"I know all this time cooped up in the car is hard but—"

She cut him off. If only the problem was as simple as being uncomfortable on the truck's worn out bench seat. "I'm not going to be able to hold it back. It's harder up here than it was in my room. Tonight, the pull is only going to be stronger. I won't be able to fight it off. I'm going to change."

"Oh."

The lack of a reply from R.J. was ominous and Amy had the sudden fear that she had revealed something she shouldn't have. Might he turn her over to the Agency? Or abandon her to make her way on her own?

Hesitantly she asked, "What are we going to do?"

"I'll figure something out." The distraction in his voice seemed to say that he was already trying to work out a solution. "We'll cope."

They pulled in at a small town planning to repeat the same plan as the day before: pick up food then get a room to rest and hide in until nightfall. After a few blocks, without finding any of the fast food places open at such an early hour, R.J. circled back to an all-night diner they had passed when they got off the rural highway.

Amy waited until R.J. was inside the plain red brick building before stepping outside. She knew if she had asked him if it was okay to get some air, R.J. would have said no. It was simpler to just do it and say sorry afterward,

The fresh air calmed her tense nerves and it felt good to stretch her legs. Amy sucked in deep breaths and stared down at the cracked pavement. The street was coming to life with early morning traffic. All the cars that went by had Texas license plates. They must have crossed into the state sometime during the night.

Where were they? How far was she from Odessa and Bluebell Crescent?

It was strange being so close to a home again. If they were close? Maybe they passed it hours ago and were on the other side of the state. She hoped they hadn't driven by it while she was oblivious. She desperately wanted to see it again, even if there was nothing left  for her there.

Lost in her thoughts, she smelled the threat before she saw him.

There was an ammonia-like burning of alcohol and a distinctive sour stench of vomit. The bile wasn't his. It didn't match the rancid tobacco tar, burnt corn, and barbecue sauce stench that seeped from his mouth. His sweat was heavy with fatigue but also revealed a whiff of menace.

"Hey Missy, watch a doing out so late?"

"It's not late. It's early," she said taking a step back toward the pickup.

"Looking to have some fun?"

He was old. Not as old as R.J. but wrinkles burst around his eyes and drew a deep archway from his nose to his lips on his leather tanned skin. He was unshaven and his jeans hadn't been washed in weeks. The cotton fibers were saturated with the history of his labors and his sins.

"No, thanks." She glanced back to the diner's door. There wasn't even a hint of movement inside. Where was R.J.?

"C'mon. You look like you could use a pick-me-up. I got some stuff back at my place that will put you in a good mood." He towered over her and was at least a head taller than her five feet, eight inches. His biceps strained the fabric of his blue checked shirt sleeves.

"I'm waiting for someone."

Seriously! The first person I run into after getting out into the real world is this creep.

His mere proximity made her feel dirty and she began to calculate an escape route.

"I'm someone," he said. His easy-going good-ole-boy drawl faded as his voice became more forceful and demanding of her attention. "You don't think I'm worth talking to?"

"You're just not the person I'm waiting for." Amy muttered the words and made to head into the restaurant

"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you." His hand moved faster than she expected and grabbed her by the shoulder.

Escape became a whole lot harder. Amy wondered if she could pull free and run to safety, but there was something unsavory of having to dart off like a startled deer because of this asshole. She had just been minding her own business. Why couldn't he have just left her alone? If anyone one should be running it should be him.

A breath escaped her nose. It was wet—thick and steamy. She tried to speak but instead a murderous noise came from the back of her throat. It was a new word in a new language which encompassed her hate and rage at people trying to take control of her, trying to coerce her, trying to trap her. The word said: run.

The yellow orbs of his eyes were crisscrossed with swollen blood vessels that seemed to stretch into the back of his head as their lids drew back. His hand slipped from her shoulder and the pungency of his sweat hit a delightful crescendo of instant terror.

He bolted, tearing off across the street, heedless of the cars. A delivery van nearly took him down and only missed by swerving dangerously with the squeal of rubber and the honking of its horn. He fell, skidding on the rough blacktop. Frantically he clawed his way up and forward. The smell of the blood his fingertips left behind filled the air.

He got to his feet and kept sprinting as though he was being pursued by the devil himself. Amy watched until he was only a spec in the distance.

"You should have stayed in the car," R.J. said hurrying out with two paper bags of hot greasy food. "What if someone saw you?"

"Sorry," Amy said climbing back in the passenger seat. "It won't happen again."

R.J. told her what he had gotten for her, but Amy's mind wasn't on what he was saying. Not even the food was enough to distract her from her thoughts.

What the hell just happened?