“Did you hear that?” I whispered, my eyes drinking in the darkness surrounding the car.
He stopped kissing my neck long enough to mumble a distracted “No” before returning his attention to my skin.
“There it is again!” I crowed and then quickly lowered my voice, not wanting to alert whatever had made the sound to my presence.
He sighed and sat back, listening in annoyance. After a moment, he said, “I don’t hear anything.”
His eyes widened. “Wait…”
The sound began to repeat, its frequency and volume increasing as if it were getting closer. And closer.
“I’m creeped the fuck out,” I hissed. “Let’s get out of here.”
“You don’t have to ask twice,” he said under his breath as he scrambled half-dressed over the seat back and positioned himself behind the wheel. He wrenched the key in the ignition, but the car only clicked.
The sound was so loud now that it drowned out the beating of my heart in my throat. I couldn’t see anything beyond the rolled-up windows, no matter how intently I stared into the darkness.
The driver’s side door flew open and something blacker than the night slid into view for an instant, and then both the man and the creature were simply gone.
“Damn it,” I spat.
I got out of the car, slamming the door in irritation, and stomped to the hood. Reconnecting the battery took almost no time at all, in direct opposition to the difficulty I had disconnecting it on the sly in the first place. Thankfully, it was usually easy to entice a man to look under the hood of a ’76 Firebird; even a man who couldn’t tell a battery from an oil pan.
I closed the hood and sighed. I had almost seen it this time. I guess I’d just have to try again.