2

Bart’s Truck Stop

The sign over the station baffled me—who knew there would be a taxidermist way out in the middle of nowhere—but my tank was getting low, so I thought it would be a good opportunity to fill it up. I turned off my truck and scanned the parking lot. It seemed so desolate and rundown with only one other filthy car out front. An old Slim Dusty song played over the rusty speakers as the pump slowly filled my tank. I put the nozzle back and headed inside to pay. Opening the creaky door, I was confronted by an unusual smell. Suddenly, a huge barn owl spread its wings directly in front of me, and I ducked instinctively.

A sweaty, domineering, old man sitting behind the counter snorted gruffly and slowly stood, scratching his stubble and nodding. “Heh, gets ‘em every time.”

I took a closer look at the bird and straightened back up when I saw the bird was stuffed and tried not to be embarrassed. The man took a stained, white-and-black rag from his pocket and wiped dust from the counter as he peered at me through round, thick, smudged glasses that sat crookedly on his hairy, bulbous nose.

I could not put my finger on it, but this place gave me the creeps. I peeked into the attached diner I’d just noticed and saw a few people sitting down with food in front of them and steam rising from their coffee mugs. The light from