Mason

Your headlights only show you a small piece of road, and everything beyond that might as well not exist until you reach it.

About twenty minutes into the drive, I passed the last real cluster of houses and got on to the emptier stretch.

There were low hills off to my left, a dry wash somewhere to the right, and a line of old fence posts that had been leaning the same direction for as long as I could remember.

It was cold enough that I had the heater on low.

Not freezing, but that dry, desert cold that gets inside the car if you do not keep warm air moving.

I was tired but not falling asleep.

I want that clear.

I was awake.

I had just finished an energy drink, and I was doing that thing where you tap the steering wheel and keep checking the mirrors because you know you're alone, but you don't like feeling alone.

There were no cars ahead of me, and none behind me.

I could see a long way in my rear view because the road was mostly straight behind me.

It was empty.

Then I came around a shallow bend and saw something lying across my lane.

At first I thought it was a trash bag.

It was low, dark, kind of twisted.

Then my headlights hit it fully, and I saw fur.

I slowed down hard enough that the stuff in my passenger seat slid onto the floor.

It looked like a coyote.

Not huge, but big enough that if somebody hit it at speed, it could mess up a bumper or make them swerve.

It was lying on its side with its legs bent in different directions, right on the white line between my lane and the shoulder.