5/2 19:03

Where the long Meuse River met Meuse Town, it curved in a great bend, but the connecting road running alongside it from outside town cut straight into Meuse Town at this point, and the road's end was a second-rate bar. The road split there, one branch running right, one left; the bar was closed for the night.

Hugo's old cruiser, already doing over seventy-six miles an hour, tore straight down that road toward Meuse Town, and the thing showed no sign of slowing, keeping pace right alongside them in the river. The streetlights still burned, the rain still poured down. Before long, both of them reached the edge of town, where the river curved, and the thing, driven by its own momentum, leapt clear out of the water — its huge, brilliant yellow body a terrifying sight — and in the instant it came down, it had overtaken the old cruiser and landed broadside, blocking the road ahead of them.

At the very moment Kevin froze in shock, Hugo's old cruiser slammed straight into the thing's belly, as if driving it forward, pushing on and on without letting up. Waiting for them at the end of that push was the unicorn head lying outside the bar — sure enough, still never hauled away — its long, pointed horn standing there waiting. Before the thing could even adjust its position, the unsharpened horn had already pressed into the far side of its belly, and at that same moment Hugo's car kept shoving it forward, harder still, and just like a balloon being popped, the horn finally punched clean through its belly and out the other side, its tip streaming with blood as it burst through the cruiser's windshield. The glass shattered, fragments raining down into the car, slicing a cut across Hugo's cheek. The thing vomited up a great mouthful of blood and then let out a mad, shrieking roar, thrashing its working fins in fury and agony, whipping its enormous tail with all it had left — but Hugo, gritting his teeth, roared right back, whether in answer or in some kind of frenzy even he couldn't say, and he kept the gas pedal pinned with everything he had, the overheating engine sending up white smoke from under the hood. The thing turned its head and bellowed at the cruiser, but blood was already surging up its throat, and its roar came out thick with the reek of blood and a choked, garbled sound. Before long, it stopped thrashing its fins, stopped whipping its tail, its head lolling to one side, tongue lolling out long, and went utterly still — but the old cruiser kept driving forward regardless, with everything it had left.

"Hugo! Stop!" Kevin shouted at Hugo beside him. "Hugo! Stop! It's not moving anymore!"

Hugo came back to himself. His forehead was beaded with sweat, both cheeks burning red, his heart hammering. He eased his foot off the gas, his calf aching stiff, let go of the wheel, and sat there taking one huge, heaving breath. He looked over at Kevin, who let out a breath of his own and jerked his chin toward the thing. The two of them unbuckled their seatbelts and got out of the car.